


My Favourite Shade of Blue

by Ampere_05



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, F/F, F/M, Harry Potter - Freeform, M/M, Next Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:40:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 79,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29394207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ampere_05/pseuds/Ampere_05
Summary: Originally posted on Fanfiction.net under the same username and title, so I decided to expand! Set in 2020, COVID does not exist. Timothy Wisteria is your average 17-year-old, except he isn't really - he's magical. Good thing we overcame pureblood supremacy. But...is something brewing? On the other hand, Olivia Wisteria is just an average 15-year old girl who happens to be Tim's sister, and really is average. But she's got problems and drama of her own, although not as life-threatening. Olive and Tim may be siblings, but they live in very different worlds. So things must really be messed up if they and their friends have to team up. Warning/disclaimer: LGBTQ+, disabilities, suicidal mentions, mental health issues. Will rewrite in better language once I am done with the entire story, AND the sequel is already roughly planned out. Still figuring out how AO3 works, so please bear with me!
Kudos: 2





	1. Prologue

**Prologue**

  
_There is nothing quite so innocent as a boy and a girl in love, building sandcastles in the air._

Fate is funny.

Or maybe it’s sadistic.

Or both at the same time.

I am about to tell you a story.

A story I shouldn’t be telling you. Really. It might make you lose all faith in humanity. It would be safer for you to just yeet your device out the window right now.

For the rest of you stubborn walnuts, read ahead at your own risk.

Back to fate.

Don’t you ever feel that, sometimes, you just narrowly miss disaster by a complete accident? For example, you miss a flight that ends up going down in flames. Like, wow, if Mr Cuddles weren’t so goddamn fussy about who housed him when I was away, I’d be a burnt corpse right now.

Incidentally, the opposite is true too. It’s like leaving your bagel unattended for a split second only to have it robbed by some pigeon. Even though you did put up a strong fight, all you got out of it was scratched arms and stray feathers in your hair. And no bagel.

Sometimes, fate meant that things were just the way they were, and nothing could be done about it. Like when your arch-enemy got that last Barbie lunchbox, and you had to be stuck with a lame unicorn one in second grade. Like when you missed out on special genes that a sibling got instead. I was a bit upset at first, but I still love Timothy to death. And beyond that.

Timothy rarely got angry. I mean, once we went on a family trip to the beach and this giant seagull just swooped down and stole his favourite red hat right off his head. He was super bummed and even teared up a little (which he keeps trying to deny. Seriously, what is it with boys not crying?), but he didn’t get angry. He didn’t get mad when Katie Wilson told him his drawing looked like shit (or words to that effect) in first grade. He didn’t even get angry when I spilled hot pink nail polish on his brand new sneakers (yikes). Just faintly traumatised; I thought his eyes were going to burst out from his head.

But of course, all of this was before he packed up his trunk, waved his wand and disappeared to a boarding school in god-knows-where. I’d like to be dramatic and say I never saw him again and that I just wile my days writing depressing poetry about the brother I almost had, but I did. See him again, I mean. He came home for the summer, armed with new knowledge of all sorts of magic. Having him home made the house a little more cramped, but it was worth it. Driving Mom up the wall by turning her white carnations purple, making Dad’s armchair squeal every time he tried to sit in it (Dad’s heart hasn’t been the same since 2015), laughing at my fearsome oaths to emasculate him in the night if he touched any of my stuff again. In short, the usual.

(About the oaths: You’d take them too if you walked into your bedroom to find everything except for the bed stuck to the ceiling and not being able to reverse it until it all fell at once at 3 am. While you were sleeping.)

So, in case you didn’t pick up the general idea of Timothy: relatively mild-tempered, honest, kind, blah blah blah, would be boring if he didn’t always make me laugh (I’m the rebellious one), but an excellent big brother. Seriously, he showed Krissy Wilson who was boss on that playground that one time.

That was the last month we spent together. The next day I screamed and started crying (and no, I was not overdramatic)when I saw an owl tapping at my bedroom window patiently. Timothy burst into my room and promptly fell flat on his face because he was still entangled in his sheets. He broke his nose, and it’s still slightly crooked to this day. If anyone asks, Tim makes up this over-the-top story that changes every time but always involves him escaping dangerous “Hufflepuffs” (something he always says in hushed tones with a haunted look on his face)on dragons. Psh, like dragons exist. After being relieved that I was fine (seriously, does the guy even have a temper?), he opened the window and coaxed the owl inside. I had never seen him smile so wide as he stood there reading the letter, decorating it with specks of blood.

‘Course, when Mom came down, there was hell to pay. She thought we had been fighting and that I, a little 8-year-old who was crying just the day before when Krissy Wilson made fun of my unicorn lunchbox, had given my significantly taller but gawky 11-year-old brother a bloody nose. She was pleased as punch to see that he had gotten his Hogwarts letter and fixed up Tim’s nose in a jiffy. Started crying halfway because her little boy was “all grown up” and messed up the spell, hence the crooked nose. Not that it was a surprise, we were all expecting that letter since the day Tim shrunk a horrendous red-and-gold sweater Mom was trying to force him into when he was 5, until it was too tiny even to fit a Barbie doll.

(For anyone who wants to know, I slaughtered Krissy Wilson the next year. That’s right. I’m talking Frozen lunchbox, water bottle AND matching cutlery set. Eat dirt, Prissy Krissy.)

“You know, Mom,” I said, “you really should appreciate the time you’ve got left with me too, then. I’m only three years away from my letter.” Mom gave a shaky laugh and squeezed my hand. But the laughter was forced, and her grip was a bit too tight. I was already eight and hadn’t even shown the slightest trace of magic. I kept hoping until my 11th birthday. After that, I realised that it was just my brother who had lucked out on the magic part. I was kind of upset about it for a while, but I got over it. I know he would be happy for me if I were the one with magic, and he always shared whatever magic he learnt that year in the Summer holidays, so I never felt left out.

(I did not cry every time we had to wave him off at the train station. There are always so many other kids with cats and what-not crowding around that wall; it’s just an allergic reaction. So I’ll say this once and never again, fuck off Carrie.)

And so, Timothy disappeared for three-quarters of a year, only appearing during Christmas and Summer holidays. I grew up in a mugger, mugs, muggly- a non-magic neighbourhood with non-magic people including best friend Carrie Stells and arch-enemy Katie Wilson. It was tough, growing up without Tim, but more on that later. Sometimes it was like I forgot I had a brother. Those times scared me because I didn’t want to forget Tim. I can picture him now, rolling his eyes and ruffling my hair, insisting that he wasn’t going anywhere for a long time.

The house is too cold and silent without him.

He graduated from Hogwarts last month, and he is home, but he’s been reticent lately. Usually holed up in his bedroom. Not as talkative or receptive to humour as he usually is. I thought he was just homesick for Hogwarts until Carrie accidentally shed some light on the situation:

Carrie: Tim looks so down lately. I wish we could cheer him up.

Me: Nah, he’s probably missing his fancy boarding school.

Carrie: What?! Heavens, no! He’s lovesick, Liv.

Me: That’s it, I’m confiscating your Jane Austen novels.

Carrie: I’m serious, Livvy. He’s pining. Come on; he’s got to have mentioned some girl! Or boy. Boy might be more plausible, that’s likely why he can’t meet him because you guys don’t kn-

Me: No, Car, we had this conversation already. Timothy is straight. I remember that just last year-

-At which point, I dramatically gasped and leapt from my chair to run up here, the attic. It probably wasn’t very nice to leave Carrie hanging, but she gets that I don’t heed reason when I get an epiphany. So, now that I have all the facts in order, I can begin my investigation because Carrie was right. There was a girl. I had forgotten because Tim only mentioned her once, a year or two ago. I don’t know much about her, but Buzzfeed’s Sorting Hat quiz placed me in Ravenclaw for a reason - I’m goddamn resourceful. And before you know it, mystery girl is not-so-mysterious anymore.


	2. Owl Literacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olive muses about why owls can't read at a sleepover with Carrie.

**Chapter 2: Fountain Escapades**

_To Timothy -_

_Your handkerchief will remain in my pocket,_

_And your coat will remain in your grave._

_Until you come home._

_-f.r._

6.32 a.m., 26 August 2020 

Alright. I just finished posting some letters. The wizard way. Really, it wasn’t that hard. Ernest was moping in his cage and was more than happy to mail the letters for me in exchange for a few treats and some love, even though he seemed slightly suspicious. Who knew owls could squint so intimidatingly? Anyway, the situation is more dire than I had first anticipated. It was Tim’s birthday 2 days ago, and he barely stirred from his bed. At least, I thought so until I went up to force-feed him some dinner and found his bed empty. Smooth sheets. Not-slept-in looking. Mum’s already worried, but her new job is taking up almost all of her time and energy that she doesn’t even know half of it. Dad couldn’t care less; good riddance to him. Probably doesn’t even know that Tim graduated. Mum would do her nut if she found out Tim wasn’t in his room last night. At least he came home today. Late, yes, but at least he was home. His muddy, scruffy clothes looking out of place in the gleaming kitchen. It was a stormy morning. Trust my brother, the sensible one, to become this, this lovesick, sappy fool that doesn’t even notice when he’s drenched.

_There was a stock-still silhouette seated on the couch. Focusing intensely on something. The kitchen tiles gleamed and seemed blinding in the gloom of the setting sun. The house was quiet, only the scratching of a pencil could be heard._

_The scratching abruptly stopped; the silhouette jerked up with the pencil pointing in the air, as it poised to stab someone with it. Footsteps. Cautious, slow, but getting louder as another silhouette appeared at the frosted glass of the door. The lock clicked and the kitchen door swung open with a squeak. Light from the street lamps outside spilled into the dark and still house, illuminating the former silhouette seated on the couch, mild interest displayed on her ashen-looking face in the harsh, white light._

_The latter silhouette inhaled in surprise, but entered the house and shut the door. Started pulling off his scarf and coat and hanging them up with the air of complete nonchalance. As if he didn’t notice they were streaked with dirt. As if he didn’t realise he was missing for the past two days. As if he didn’t realise the other occupant was worried sick._

_“Mum’s going to kill you when she sees your coat and scarf.” The silhouette shifted and flicked on a switch. He was smiling slightly and obediently removed his clothing from the coat hanger. There was an exasperated sigh from the couch. “As if. Give them to me; I’ll scrub the mud out of them for you.” The boy snorted and his smile grew. He folded his coat over his arm and slowly walked over to lean against the armrest of the couch. “Last I checked, you tried to_ burn _the dirt from your coat last autumn. So, forgive me if I believe I could do it myself very well. I particularly like this coat, and would prefer wearing it unscorched.” The boy shifted and began to walk to his room when a quiet voice stopped him. “You don’t even stay at home anymore, what makes you think you can mend or clean your clothes?” He froze and turned around with an incredulous look on his face._

_He began to speak but was cut off by a sharper, more heated voice. “It was your birthday yesterday. I bet you didn’t even notice. I wanted to celebrate it with you, except for the tiny problem that you weren’t in your room or anywhere that I knew.” The girl was speaking increasingly rapidly and her breathing was growing heavy. She looked down and solemnly shook her head. “You’re already 18. Soon you’ll be waltzing off with all of your_ magical _friends and forget all about me.” The sentence was swallowed by a heaving sob as she buried her face in her hands, her sniffling only slightly muffled. The boy suddenly wrapped his arms around her and pulled the girl into a loose hug as she sobbed into his stomach. The boy rubbed comforting circles on her back and talked in a soothing voice._

_“Alright, I know you want to know what’s up pretty badly for you to turn on the waterworks like this.” She could_ hear _the smile in his voice. “Yeah, I was away for most of the past seven years, but I was your_ best friend _for 11 years before that. You don’t think I’ve forgotten that, do you?” He actually laughed when she pulled away looking disgruntled, pulling out a dainty, embroidered satin handkerchief to dab at her eyes with a reproachful air. “I can’t believe you still carry that ancient thing.” She glared at him, although there wasn’t much heat behind the glare. His smile softened and he spoke softly. “I can’t tell you what’s happened just yet, but I promise I’ll tell you the day I am ready to.” The girl sniffed again and deigned no answer. Instead she lifted her head to look at him patronisingly. “Better not let Carrie hear that. She might actually fight you on that.”_

And then I invited Carrie over for a sleepover because I panicked. I know. I _know_ . I am the world’s biggest idiot. I’m not _usually_ that pathetic at comebacks (no, Carrie, I am not, so for the second time in 2 days, _shut the fuck up_ ) but I mean it was better than answering him. I mean, I didn’t exactly agree to wait for him to tell me in his own time. Psh, like I'm that patient. I just...sort of agreed to...not? Terrorize him? Until he gives in? UGH. Too confusing. Sleepy now-

7 a.m., 26 August 2020, Bedroom 

How long does it take for wizards to reply? Like, 3 to 5 business days? Am not that patient. May have to resort to more extreme forms of communication (I did read something about ‘flu’ powder in one of Tim’s dusty old tomes - seriously, you’d think learning _magic_ would warrant some interesting textbooks at the very least). Also, Tim needs to hide his textbooks better. Carrie found them in 3 minutes.

7.02 a.m., 26 August 2020, Bedroom 

Still no reply. Honestly, how long does it take to scribble a reply and chuck an owl out the window? Maybe they’re lazy. Honestly, after all the trouble I went through just to send you that letter _under the cover of the night,_ rude.

7.03 a.m., 26 August 2020, Bedroom 

What if I sent it wrong? What if Ernest doesn’t remember the way and got lost because I didn’t write the address? Because he didn’t understand what I explained to him and he couldn’t read the address because there _was_ no address to read? Can owls read?? CAN OWLS READ??? That’s it - code red situation, waking up Carrie.

7.07 a.m., 26 August 2020, Bedroom 

Dammit Carrie, I can hear you just fine from my bed. You did not need to yell in my ear just 5 feet away from me. Apparently the situation wasn’t serious enough to warrant waking her up before 10 a.m. as it “should be bloody obvious tha’ owls don’ fuckin’ read ‘cause they’re illiterate” and that I was just stressing myself out, waiting for a reply barely 10 hours after I sent the letters. She really has no clue, does she? Who’s to say owls aren’t smart enough to teach themselves how to read and write if they can accurately post mail to the extent that the _entire_ magical population uses them to post letters (which I still find hard to believe)? If a seagull is smart enough to steal mY BLOODY bagel, owls should be able to make efficient battle plans at the very least.

7.08 a.m., 26 August 2020, Bedroom 

SO BORED. Carrie’s asleep again. I can’t sleep, too many thoughts to think. Maybe we can discuss owl literacy programs if I prod her awake.

7.10 a.m., 26 August 2020, Bedroom 

So, _no,_ Carrie doesn’t like being woken up to discuss owl literacy despite the horrendous (somewhat made-up) statistics showing only 1 in 30,000 owls are barely able to recognise writing. She told me to “piss off” (she swears a lot when she’s too sleepy) and-

OMG THERE’S AN OWL AT THE WIDNOW WTF DO I DO CARRRIEEEEEEEEE

7.17 a.m., 26 August 2020, Bedroom 

So my dignified, slightly taken aback cry of surprise (or what Carrie described as “banshee-like shrieks jumbled with incoherent, screechy oaths”) woke Carrie up and she took control of the situation from there. She opened the window and the owl hopped in (while eyeing my warily. He, unfortunately, had witnessed me lose my remaining scraps of sanity before Carrie salvaged the situation). Carrie untied the letter tied to his leg and he ruffled his feathers (HAUGHTILY. AT ME. You know, just for that, you and the rest of your pretentious flock of snobby hoots can _forget_ about ever learning to read) before flying off again. Bloody hell, where _is_ Carrie? Did her toothbrush swallow her? I hope Ernest returns soon. Tim’s going to notice that he’s missing sooner or later. Carrie finally decided things were exciting enough for her to fully wake up so she’s gone to brush her teeth and freshen up before we look at the letter together. It’s really heavy and thick and the envelope is made of that stiff parchment material. Do wizards not care about the environment? Carrie’s back-

7.20 a.m., 26 August 2020, Bedroom 

Still haven’t opened the letter yet, but for good reason. Carrie was all pink-faced because she was having a cosy little chat through the bathroom window with Isabella aka the girl Carrie’s had the hots for since...forever, who lives on the right side of my house (Carrie lives on the left). I shall reimagine their conversation in the style of those Jane Austen novels Carrie does fancy so:

**Carrie:** _(stomping in, the embodiment of gracelessness, only to halt as she gapes, mesmerised by the goddess she sees not 15 feet away, internally_ ) Oh! Woe is me, woe is me, for I live yet another day chained by the torment of secret, unrequited love!

**Isabella:** _(the picture of perfection, golden curls cascading down her fair shoulders and framing her delicate face, internally)_ Why, is it not the fair maiden I call Carrie standing before me? Carrie, who lives not one, but _two_ doors down from me? _(Calls out externally)_ Good morning, my dear acquaintance. I presume you have just awoken after a night of festivities with your dearest confidante, Olivia Wisteria. I hope she is in good health.

**Carrie:** _(squeaks, but not visibly, calls out in a wavering voice)_ Oh, yes, absolutely spiffing to see you this marvellous morning, Isabella. Yes, Olivia is in quite the picture of health(!). (I assume she is only referring to my physical state)

**Isabella:** _(shily, still looking every inch a gorgeous damsel)_ And you? Are your spirits as high and healthy?

**Carrie:** _(visibly squeaks)_ Oh, yes! YES! _(realises she needn’t have been so jubilant)_ That is to say, I am definitely of sound mind and body this fine morning. I truly appreciate your concern, you do flatter me.

**Isabella:** _(a swoon-worthy smile gracing her rosy lips)_ Well, I really must be off. It’s been splendid to meet you, we simply must chat again soon! _(closes her bathroom window)_

**Carrie:** _(sinks to the ground and recite multiple, lengthy soliloquies that always end with her beating her chest as she laments how she and the object of her affections never truly go beyond platonic regard)_

Well, maybe it’s slightly over-dramatised. Carrie’s swearing that Jane Austen books are nothing like that (I have made it my personal mission to read every other book that I could get my hands on) and that I am a “disgrace” and I “sully the good name of the most passionate manuscripts written in the diverse history of English Literature” but that doesn’t change the fact that she is _red as a beetroot._ I bet her romantic little heart is practically thumping in her chest after what I’ve written. Still, I mustn't imitate ‘Emma’ from the novel…’Emma’... as I’ve promised Carrie that I would not meddle in her love life as she wants every bit of progress to be “by her own hand” or some old tosh like that. Hence, I am forever doomed to be the supportive best friend cheering from the sidelines as I watch the game that is Carrie’s extremely frustrating love life. Anyway, I think it’s about time we open that letter-


	3. Fountain Escapades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olive and Krissy have a bit of a run-in at a fountain. Olive's temper isn't better these days, no matter what she says.

**Chapter 2: Fountain Escapades**

_To Timothy -_

_I love you like a fountain loves the sky._

_Desperately, failing to reach you every time._

_-f.r._

_I couldn’t believe my eyes when I received your letter - I thought Tim was taking the piss when he said he had a sister. An adorable one too - hell, I’d be pleased as punch if my siblings even noticed I was home from school, let alone noticing what I was doing. I figured he had some bad news; Josh said he looked a bit out of it at the station. Can’t tell much about what it could have been. I was meaning to write to him to see if he was fine yet, but I guess he isn’t. Anyway, here’s what I know:_

_He met a girl. Her name’s Lily. Prefect, teacher’s pet, bit of a swot._ _Pureblood._ _She’s my cousin, actually, but she is (was?) in Ravenclaw, so we didn’t really interact much until this year. They met on the first Friday of the year, I believe, when Tim had detention. It was WILD, golden-boy Timmy in detention, SO EARLY in the year too. They started dating during Christmas break. It was so odd to see someone other than Josh or me demanding Tim’s attention. The first few weeks, Tim was so preoccupied with her and just really not himself. After a while, he went back to normal but was more...happy? Josh and I got to see a side of Lily that we hadn’t before and we could see why Tim liked - dare I say ‘loved’? - her. First off, she_ swore. _Like, almost as much as you did in your letter. (Honestly, how are you and Tim related?) But only when she was angry or annoyed or frustrated. And she broke more rules than we thought, but minor ones. She was just better at getting away with it._

_Tim’s great and all, but he was epic with Lily. Honestly, they did some legendary pranking together. Lily was his partner in crime - each of them never let the other take the fall. It was an ‘all for one and one for all’ sort of thing. This was especially handy during all those MR attacks. They really helped the younger students recover from the trauma. But I don’t think Tim’s really recovered from it himself. I think he got into a small fight with Lily, stuff about your parents got dragged up, but no lasting damage was done. They didn’t really do much PDA, just lots of hand-holding mostly. Almost...sweet. They were lucky to have each other. But then in April there was a party celebrating Slytherin’s victory in a Quidditch match against Hufflepuff and Lily and Tim were in a bit of a fight and Tim was Seeker so everyone kept pouring him a drink so he was really intoxicated and...he might have, sort of…_

_Kissed another girl._

_Lily, was...livid. Hexed him so badly across the Entrance Hall. Non-verbally too, and from the way Tim looked after, I don’t think even half of them were part of the syllabus. Or even remotely legal. Tim was in the Hospital Wing for two weeks. He kept asking for Lily the entire time. If he wasn’t in so much pain, it would’ve been funny. It’s devastating to see your best friend suffer and not be able to help them. But he didn’t really receive much sympathy from Josh and I. Not from me because he needed to learn a lesson but I think Josh didn’t because he was a bit preoccupied with something. I wouldn’t know, he kept disappearing throughout the year. Tim kept pestering us to try to bring Lily to the Hospital Wing so that he could talk to her because he couldn’t even lift a finger from his bed. We stopped trying after Lily nearly took Josh’s eye out with her quill and threatened to write to my mother about my contract with the Hufflepuff’s only-slightly-illegal cookie business._

_Tim was heartbroken. He tried to be cheerful with us but we could see how he was hurting so badly inside. He brooded mostly, bribed some of Lily’s housemates to pass her letters from him. At first, Lily threw them in the fire or balled them up and chucked it at my head (seriously,_ my _head. Not even Josh’s.) in between lessons, but then she started reading them. Timothy must have written quite the letter because after that Lily started looking a bit strained and pale, especially if Tim was nearby. But once Tim saw that Lily had read his letter(s), he mostly left her alone._

_Then, somehow, on the last Hogsmeade trip of May, both of them were the last to return to the castle_ soaking wet _because it was raining. They were clinging to each other like the concept of personal space was completely lost on them and they looked happier than they had in months. I wolf-whistled, and Lily_ blushed. _Lily never blushes. I almost fell down the stairwell in shock. Even back in our dorm, Tim was all drunk with euphoria and wouldn’t answer any of our questions. He just drew his curtains and did some very quiet thinking for like, hours. Didn’t even come down to dinner, though we brought him some food back._

_Things seemed fine after that. They went back to the way they were before. On the day we had to return home, Lily went to see Tim off at the station. Took an awful long time, and Lily was practically dragging her feet when she returned. I have absolutely no clue what could’ve happened in that short span of time. Lily and I were staying at the castle because Lily’s parents, my aunt and uncle, were supposed to fetch us two days later to go to the Rowens’ Chateau in Dijohn, France. We always spend our summers there. Give Timmy all my love and a large, wet kiss or two, and tell him not to fret too much. Cupid will be straightening things out by cornering his cousin._

_Jokes aside, I think you’re a wizard young sister to really care about your big brother so much. But don’t worry too much; he’s a big boy now, he can take care of himself. You do that, too. Take care, Olive(Livia? Liv?)._

_CTGWPBJ,_

_Dr. Cupid_

7.32 a.m., 26 August 2020

Carrie thinks the letter is dead useful. “At least we have the rough outline of what happened, we can always ask for more details when necessary.” Psh. We don’t even know his _name._ “Dr. Cupid.” Absolute fucking nonsense, just like the rest of him. Bet he’s such a busybody, sticking his nose into other peoples’ love lives. Like seriously, how pathetic are you to be so involved in someone else’s affairs? Carrie’s rattling on about something along the lines of hypocrisy so I’m doing the responsible thing which is to tune her out. And he has absolutely no idea what he’s talking about. I _know_ he can handle himself but Tim’s only human; he makes mistakes just like the rest of us. And what was up with that sign-off? ‘CTGWPBJ’? What is it, code? Trust my brother to have one of his close friends to be an utter idiot. I hope the other one’s better. I am so writing a reply letter chewing him out, and Carrie can’t sto

  
  
  
  


7.39 a.m., 26 August 2020

Carrie’s a little shit who decided I wasn’t paying enough attention to her and just _yanked_ my journal out of my hands. Like, wtf Carrie??? Such chaotic evil energy. She should revert to her normally lawful neutral vibes that compliment my chaotic good energy. She’s ALSO a fucking idiot for thinking she can try to weasel out of auditioning for the Fall play. 2 years ago, Carrie and I wanted to get out of going to compulsory school ice-skating lessons (ok, fine, _I_ wanted to get out of it and dragged Carrie into the plan, now enough with the pillows, you sorry excuse of a chaotic evil) because I am like a baby deer on ice. So, I came up with a, um, illusion. (Carrie says the right word is ‘lie’ but I’m so glad we decided to tune her out 10 minutes ago.) We pretended we were putting up a play and hence couldn’t come for the lessons but forgot that Ms Briggs was a theatre student in secondary school, so she was more than a little enthusiastic about our play. And she was asking us all these questions and I am nothing if not stubborn (man, I committed to the lie like it was my _life_ ) so it became this really elaborate lie. In fact, Ms Briggs loved it so much that she replaced our ice-skating lessons with preparations for the play. Krissy was livid; you could practically see smoke coming out of her ears. I guess it didn’t help that I pointed out how her entire face looked like a tomato (in my defence, I never know when I’m talking or thinking.). I lived to regret it. The icing on my donut costume (I was hungry and I was making up the play as I went) had glue and glitter all over it that took _forever_ to wash out of my hair. Anyway, after that, we decided to make it an annual thing. It’s really fun, but Carrie’s always been a backstage sort of person, and I thought she was happy that way until I saw her mouthing lines along with the cast when she wasn't running around fixing props or helping people memorise their lines. I was Sir Donut-ty the first year, and wrote the script last year. This year, I want to try out to be Stage Manager. I’ll have a lot to live up to after Carrie’s fabulous job last year, but I’m ready for it. We’re all meeting at Tyler’s treehouse later to discuss the roles we want for the play at 10 a.m. next Tuesday. By then, I need to draw Carrie out of her shell a bit so that she’s more assertive of what she wants. One braver best friend, coming up.

10.54 a.m., 26 August 2020

I’m still on an adrenaline high I feel so jittery omgomg I cannot _believe_ I am still breathinggg that was so epicly _sick_ . After breakfast Carrie and I went to the park to get Carrie into character and we saw Krissy at the fountain, with Janet and Lizzie. She was clipping barrettes in her hair and tossing her head this way and that, as her stooges oozed compliments and admiration of her shiny and blinding hair. But Carrie noticed someone else - Isabella, drawing by the fountain. Carrie immediately started tugging at my arm and wanting to go back but I am nothing if not brave (Carrie says it’s more like idiotic in a poke-the-dragon-in-the-eye kind of sense) so I dragged her over. To Isabella. And I was just chatting with Izzy, while Carrie was being _completely_ useless and standing stock-still beside me. I was just proposing the idea that _Izzy_ could help Carrie while I went to hunt for rocks (I may have fibbed that I was a rock collector) when _Krissy_ and her _gigantic nose_ had to butt in. Krissy knew about Carrie’s crush on Izzy but I’ll be damned if I let her give Carrie a hard time about it.

I mean, it wasn’t my fault. Except it kind of was. I like to think that I’m normally quite good-tempered, but I can be nasty when triggered. And Krissy’s evil look in her eyes and her curling, over-glossed lips just happened to be them. I wasn’t really hearing what she was saying, because there was an odd sort of ringing in my ears, but I could _feel_ Carrie deflate beside me. Even Janet and Lizzie, who usually kissed the ground Krissy walked on, looked super uncomfortable. Isabella looked completely ignorant and was still smiling, albeit a bit confusedly. Everything seemed muffled, somehow. Muted voices, blurry vision. But everything returned to crystal-clear sharp vision once I found me and Krissy sopping wet. Krissy was in the fountain and I was standing in front of her with my arms pushed out. I was still frowning at Krissy and was about to start lecturing her when Krissy lifted her hands and parted her drenched hair away from her face so that I could see her expression. It. Was. Murderous. I felt someone tugging at my arm and was in too much shock to register anything except that it was Carrie who was leading me away. Quickly. _Very_ quickly. We didn’t stop until we had sprinted all the way back to Carrie’s house and stood, panting on her porch, trying to get rid of the stitches in our sides.

“You pushed Krissy Wilson into the fountain!” (Panicked)

“I pushed Krissy Wilson into the fountain?” (Incredulous)

“ _You_ ...pushed _Krissy Wilson_ ...into the _fountain_.” (More emphasis, punctuated by pants)

“I pushed Krissy Wilson into the fountain.” (Realisation)

“I pushed Krissy Wilson into the fountain!” (Excited)

“AND IT WAS FUCKING BRILLIANT!” (Proud, dancing with Carrie like idiots on a Wednesday morning. I think Mrs. Charleston looked out of her window at one point, but we were too swept away to notice.)

So now I’m all cosy and dry with a mug of hot chocolate, courtesy of Mrs. Stells, Carrie’s mom, and Carrie’s filling in on what I missed when I sort of...zoned out? At the fountain. I wasn’t moving at all and my _nose_ was twitching. Yikes. At least Mom and Dad are out of town for the week, otherwise we’d have Mr. and Mrs. Wilson marching up to my door, complaining about the ‘vandalism’ I get up to. But Krissy isn’t one to forgive and forget. She holds grudges. It’d be optimistic to the point of foolishness to think she might let me off easy.


	4. Missing You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olive an Tim get into one of their very rare fights, but is it just Olive being dramatic, or is there something different in the air this time?

**Chapter 3: Missing You?**

_To Timothy -_

_I thought it was just in my mind._

_I thought it was just a lie._

_-f.r._

Really sad. Sad Beautiful Tragic vibes.

Hate him. 

Awful brother. Why did I miss him so much?

Loathe him.

Betrayal by my own kin. That has to be punishable by the death penalty at the very least, right?

Picture to Burn vibes.

  
  
  


If it was anyone else, I really wouldn’t have minded half as much.

Hormones. I bet that’s it. He still hasn’t gotten over Cathy. Ew. Cathy, not the hormones. Don’t Blame Me vibes, except he really _has_ gone crazy.

But if that were true he wouldn’t have gone for Lily. Tim’s like that; he’s completely absorbed and devoted over only _one_ girl at a time.

But maybe he’s back to Cathy because he hasn’t seen Lily in ages.

But that really doesn’t sound like Tim.

How should I know? It’s not like I really know my brother anyway. Not after today.

  
  
  


Carrie’s chucking cupcakes at my window but they keep falling on Tim’s window so he finally stuck his head out to shake his fist at her. If I wasn’t dying I’d be worried because that means he’s really keyed up but, like I said, I’m _dying_. I’ll be worried about him after my funeral. (No roses please, too cliche.)

  
  
  


_The Last Will and Testament of Olivia Renee Wisteria_

I, Olivia Renee Wisteria, of 15 Brickwood Lane, revoke all former testamentary dispositions made by me and declare this to be my last will.

I leave my cat, Mr. Cuddles, and my fanciest pen to Caroline Jean Stells, my bestest (I’m dead so fuck you if you still want to point out that’s not a word, Carrie) and most treasured friend. I would also like to leave her 30% of my love and my deepest regrets that I could not taste the cupcakes she kept pelting at my window. That last Red Velvet one looked especially good.

I leave all my clothes, minus the brown fedora with a peacock feather in it, to Isabella ______ Vaughan (I don’t know her middle name! Just send them to the house on the right) as she has all the potential of becoming a fabulous fashion designer one day. I also bequeath her my blue box with a bow on it, that is full of love letters written by Carrie Caroline from fourth grade, as well as apologies if some of them have some grape jelly on them.

I leave my yellow feathered boa to Amber Hailee Gretel, for all the crazy times we had writing last year’s Fall play’s script. I hope it reminds her that sometimes, the best things happen when you’re impulsive. I would also like to leave her a request to train Carrie while I rot in my grave, even if it means leading her to the auditions with a gun to her head.

I leave my aforementioned fedora to that eagle at the docks with a black stripe around his left leg, as a peace offering, along with my sincerest apologies for calling it a pigeon. I hope it enjoyed my bagel.

I leave my mother all my awards and my handwritten manuscript of The Last Dynasty, along with 50% of my love and assurance that she was in my mind and heart in my final moments.

I leave my father (if you manage to find him) that framed picture of my middle finger that I made him the day he left (‘cause fuck you, Dad), the brown album of family photographs (I’m hitting it where it hurts) and the lilac box under my bed.

I leave my snow globe, piggy bank w/ its contents and the remaining 20% of my love (if he’s stopped acting like a fucking moron) to my asshole of a brother, Timothy Ashton Wisteria, along with orders to grow some balls man up and resolve things with Lily.

I leave my entire collection of socks to “Dr. Cupid” (very sus name) because I know a surprisingly short list of people. He better take good care of them or I swear I will come back from the grave just to haunt him.

And, um...I’d like this book to be buried with me. If I can. If I can’t...burn it. That should be all.

I hereby blah blah blah

May her good (ish) soul rest in peace.

Signed,

Olivia Renee Wisteria

  
  
  


Load of old tosh anyway. I need a proper executor and all that jazz. 

  
  


WHY DOES IT TAKE SO LONG TO STARVE TO DEATH

  
  
  
  


Carrie’s outside my door and telling me to stop being so overdramatic. Psh. Overdramatic, me? Carrie’s in the house. Interesting. Tim probably felt guilty enough to let her in. Good. He should.

  
  


Ok I’m done. Starving to death was too long and tiresome and painful anyway.

  
  
  


8.52 p.m., 26 August 2020

Carrie was really relieved that I stepped out of my room but then had to go home for dinner so now I’m at the dining table watching Tim cook his famous creamy mushroom pasta. Yup, he’s definitely cringing with guilt. I think I’ve recovered enough from the trauma to write out what happened.

So, I couldn’t stay at Carrie’s drinking hot chocolate forever (as much as I’d like to) and I thought I’d pop home to get my script so I could start working on Carrie. That was when I got the _biggest_ shock of my life.

Here’s a few things to know about the Wilsons:

  1. Mr. and Mrs. Wilson went to the same secondary school as my parents and were “highschool sweethearts” but were about the nastiest couple ever. It was a match made in hell.
  2. Dad used to be in the school band and Mr. Wilson used to bully him (being the prick that he is) until Dad punched him in the face one day. It was epic. Mr. Wilson was belittling my mom’s paper mache (like, come on dude. Do you hate all types of art?) when my Dad just went up to him and POW! Wish I was there.
  3. Because of this, we kind of have a bit of a feud with them. I mean, we weren’t prejudiced against them or anything (Dad was) but after I stole Krissy’s sand toys on the first day of kindergarten, I guess it was just in our blood.
  4. 2 years after Krissy was born, Mr. Wilson’s great-uncle died (fine fellow, still used to come to community centre parties even though he was like 80 and the Wilsons thought it “beneath them”) and they inherited a huge sum of money which is why they’re still so filthy rich to this day.
  5. Around the same time, Dad lost an equally large sum of money in his business when his partner ran off with all the money. We became kind of poor and Mom and Dad were taking on as many jobs as they could. Things are much better now (Tim helped to pay off the last of the debt by working as a part-time ice cream vendor last summer) but everyone still remembers us as “poor” which gets really frustrating sometimes.
  6. The Wilson daughters are the same age as Tim and I, respectively, which is kinda annoying because it means I have to endure Krissy’s face for another 3 years AND because Cathy Wilson will not back off from my brother. She is like _obsessed_ with him to the nth degree and keeps accosting him whenever Tim’s home and wears barrels of sickening perfume with thick layers of makeup slathered onto her face. Ew.
  7. The Wilsons _love_ their eldest daughter, i.e. she is incredibly spoiled. Everything she owns is branded, she gets designers to personally make clothes _tailor made_ to her (because, as she won’t stop telling everyone in earshot, stores just don’t stock sizes _small_ enough for her) and she’s gotten a brand new car for her past 2 birthdays. This year it was a dazzling white Rolls Royce that is Very Distinctive.



So, you can imagine my surprise when I find the aforementioned car right outside my house and Cathy talking to Tim in the doorway. He hasn’t even been home a week! Thank god Tim had the sense to not let that thing into the house. But, instead of her usual antics (talking all breathy, twirling her hair, batting her spider-like eyelashes), she had her hands clenched into fists and was very stiff. I could only see Tim’s face and he was also nodding gravely. The lack of smile made him look so much older. I was too busy gawking at...well, everything, to realise when Cathy stalked off (giving me the stink-eye). I gaped again, not quite recognising Cathy without her usual layer of makeup. You could actually see her face with only light touches of makeup here and there. She almost seemed...beautiful. Tim opened the door wider and jerked his head towards it, not quite meeting my eye. Alarm bells were definitely going off in my head now. Tim agreeing with anything _Cathy_ says never bodes well.

I complied, though I may have stomped my feet to the door a little (to show how it was so unjust to treat me like this when I had no clue what was going on), scraped the mud off my boots at the welcome mat for the first time that year (to show how I’m really such an excellent child and any allegations made may have been blown out of proportions) and went to sit on the couch. I heard Tim close the door and shuffle behind me. I admit, I was startled to see him look as grave as ever. Did he not pick up on the subtle nuances of my body language? Apparently, he didn’t, because it still looked like I was going to be _lectured_ . I _never_ get lectured by _Tim_. He always laughs and goes along with my goofiness.

It was then that I noticed the letter Tim was clutching in his hand. He shifted it out of view when he saw me staring at it. He was sort of sneering now.

“So.” (mocking tone. Who replaced my brother with an extremely accurate lookalike?)

“...So?” (confused, still have absolutely no clue as to what was going on.)

“You’ve been busy.”

“That’s one way to put it.” (with a winning smile that always melts my brother.)

“Why did you push Kristina into the fountain?”

I gaped. Again. These are too many shocks for my fragile little heart to handle, all in one day. I didn’t expect him to find out so quickly. Or from anyone else who was not me. Honesty is very important for the two of us. I spluttered a bit, acting outraged for a few minutes while Tim calmly watched me. 

Damn it, he knows me too well.

I cleared my throat and looked as injuredly as I could at him. Then started whining.

“You don’t know the whole story!”

“I’m pretty sure I do. Catherine filled me in.”

“Like she’s not a biased source.”

“She isn't. Not anymore at least.”

I was growing irritated for the second time that day. Why was my brother so hell bent on making me the bad guy?

“Oh, please. So she looks a little more human this one time. It’s not like she’s really changed.”  
  
“But she has-” Tim stopped abruptly. And began turning red. Very red. I was stunned and confused because I kept wracking my brains for what he had accidentally let slip. As his forehead turned crimson, all the gears clicked into place.

“You’ve been meeting Cathy Wilson.”

I was in numb disbelief. I get it, he was hurting from whatever happened with him and Lily, but _Cathy Wilson_? Really? I don’t buy this whole “she’s changed” act either. Even if she has, no one could change as much as Cathy would need to to become a decent human being.

Tim straightened up and his frown deepened as the red receded from his face.

“That’s not the point. The point is, you could have seriously hurt Krissy. What if she got a concussion? (I would have started tap dancing) I don’t blame Cathy for coming over to talk to me about this. Can’t you imagine how I would feel if someone pushed _you_ into a fountain?”

“You haven’t even heard my end of the story yet!”

“Go on, then. I’m waiting.”

A million things were ready to come rushing out of my mouth. But I glanced at Tim, his expression stony as ever, and faltered. I looked down at the floor. I couldn’t tell him some things, like Carrie’s crush on Isabella. He seemed convinced that Cathy had reformed, how would he believe that Krissy was the same as ever?

So I just slowly shook my head, getting ready to leave, when I heard the rustle of paper. I glanced up, curiosity burning through me as I suddenly remembered that mysterious letter. He was reading it with his mouth twisted in distaste, mouthing a few words here and there. He looked up and put it away when he saw me watching him and I quickly reverted my gaze to the carpet.

“Pushing people into fountains is not all you’ve been doing.”

I looked at him, confused, but also relieved that the atmosphere had lightened considerably. Or so I thought. I gave a tiny smile and tilted my head a bit to show that I wasn’t quite on the same page as him.

“You’ve been writing to my friends?”

My stomach dropped. This was bad, very bad. I would have preferred it if his eye started twitching, or if he started yelling in me. But he was _disappointed_. Disappointed that I broke his trust. Disappointed that I went behind his back. Disappointed that I didn’t think I could talk to him about it.

Whenever Tim was around, we would spend as much time as we could together. It was like we could communicate telepathically,in a way I couldn’t with anyone else, not even Carrie. Every year, after Tim left, people would always be like ‘you probably miss him’, or ‘don’t worry, he’ll be back soon.’ I didn’t really miss him. As cliche as it sounds, you can’t miss someone unless you think you’re out of touch with them. And I was never out of touch with Tim. True, I couldn’t contact him when he was away, but he was always in a corner of my mind. And when he returned, he would always hug me so tightly I could barely breathe, and it would feel as if I had just seen him yesterday.

But not this year.

Because as I looked at him, and he looked at me, I realised there was a gap between us. An emotional gap. It was like one day, I woke up and just stopped divulging every little thing or thought that went on in my crazy head to him. I stopped telling him all my worries and fears. But I can’t remember when that happened. And I don’t like it.

I got up and went up to my room, at the same time Tim’s expression suddenly softened a fraction. But I didn’t care. I discovered the reason Tim suddenly softened. Tears. Stupid things.

9.30 p.m., 26 August 2020

Tim’s finally done with the pasta. And watching me carefully. Turns out, when you’re agitated, things seem a lot more bleak. We didn’t have an emotional gap. I wasn’t feeling it anyway. Tim asks why I keep writing while eating. I ask him why he’s so nosy. Tim asks what’s an emotional gap. I glare at him and he backs off.

Ah, the sweet taste of normalcy.

Tim’s apologising. Really lengthy, and he seems so sad I could just hug the life out of him, but all he’s getting for now is squinty, narrow rodent eyes.

“I was just hurt that you had to resort to things like owl-napping instead of just _talking_ to me, like you normally do.”

“Ok, first off, Ernest didn’t need much coaxing. You were neglecting him to the point of animal cruelty. Secondly, you were really out of it, what was I going to get out of you?”

“First point, conceded. Secondly, I’ve been out of it before.”  
  
“Not like this.”   
  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”   
  
“I think it’s time you wrote to Lily.”

Stunned silence.

He’s still quiet.

Did I break my brother?

Ok he’s back. Lots of confused spluttering; Ah, I’ve hit the nail on the head then. Blabbering about how there’s nothing to write about, confused questions as to how I know about her, and so on.

“Relax, I only know the PG stuff.” (“There was no non-PG stuff!” yeah, right.)

He’s calmer now, and eating my pasta, but he needs it so I’ll stay mum just this once.

“I’m...um...see- oh...like, I’m…”

“...gay?”

“NO! I mean, not that it’s wrong to be gay, gays are great, better even-”

And now I’ve brought out his hardcore gay advocate side that I didn’t know he had.

Oh thank god he’s stopped. I was about to hit him over the head with my now empty plate.

“The thing is...there’s nothing to resolve.”

“I don’t want to hear your pessimistic nuances of love; Love will prevail or whatever nonsense Carrie keeps spouting from her Jane A-”

“No, I mean, there’s no miscommunication between us. Talking’s not going to help here.”

“You do realise this day is living proof that it _does_ help, right?”

“Not between people who’ve broken up. For good.”

Oh.


	5. To Act, To Be True to One's Self

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olive remembers a time when she knew her brother inside and out, not just the face he decided to show her. And how a prank went quite wrong, which taught her that older doesn't always mean wiser.

**Chapter 4: To Act, To Be True to One's Self**

_ To Timothy - _

_ Glitter makes you look good, but happiness makes you look best. _

_ -f.r. _

12.42 p.m., 30 August 2020

I decided to drag Carrie over to Commedia Theatre, where we perform every year, to get her used to the stage. Maybe she’d feel more comfortable performing in front of 20 people next Wednesday if she didn’t feel so awkward being onstage. I know Carrie can do it, she just has low self-esteem issues. But that also means it doesn’t take much to deter her from pursuing something she’s already so reluctant to try out. I’ll breathe easier after Tuesday. If Carrie can withstand Her Royal Bitchiness, she can get through auditions too.

The theatre’s always unlocked; Mr. Brocklehurst always says that any thief who stole from the theatre would carry not only the stolen item, but the guilt of stealing from a place of such art and passion. Besides, he always says there’s nothing worth stealing there anyways. Before Tim left, there used to be Christmas plays every year, but they were replaced by the Fall Play because it was simply too much work to put on 2 plays with too little gap in between. 

Mr. Brocklehurst used to direct them, but they were only for the big kids - high-schoolers. I only appreciated them as a fun outing on Christmas but Tim was wholly captivated by them. It was his biggest dream to wear a frilly costume, recite some lines and hear Mr. Brocklehurst drop his copy of the script in his haste to applaud the cast at the end of every rehearsal. But Mr. Brocklehurst, as kind and genteel as he was, never let any of the smaller kids participate.

“You are too young, you’d never understand the true honour and prestige of being in such a project!”

So Tim grew up pressing his ear against doors, watching ambiguous silhouettes through cracks and, if he was lucky, sneaking a view from backstage before being gently but firmly shooed by Mr. Brocklehurst. It was by luck, one day, that he discovered a squashed corner hidden above the lighting booth. Spectacular but terrifying view, and absolutely cosy for the two of us, on those times he managed to drag me there. I found the rehearsals slightly interesting but awfully draggy, while Tim hung on every word, every movement, muttering comments under his breath in a frenzied whisper, his whole being practically quivering with anticipation.

I loved to see my brother being so happy, but it made my blood boil to see him being bullied. He returned home after yet another day of rehearsal-watching early and was really quiet. Eerily quiet. So I snooped through the bag he took with him (what can I say? Old habits die hard.) and found all of his books covered in pink glitter. All his stationery had crude, brightly coloured tassels stuck on the end and his exercise book was filled with scribbles and the word “gay” scribbled on multiple pages.

I knew who did it - this group of bastard sophomores. They jeered at him a few times when they caught him slipping out of the theater at the end of the day, but Tim always walked past them with his head held high (dragging me, but I suppose a seven year old launching herself at them would have only amused them, so it was probably for the best). 

I had no idea they would go this far and I was out for revenge. I told Mum I was going to Carrie’s and ran out before she could realise the bag I was carrying was Tim’s, not mine. As soon as Mrs. Stells let me in, I raced to Carrie’s bedroom where she was, with difficulty, reading  _ Pride and Prejudice _ . (Note: At this point, Carrie and I weren’t that close yet. Tim was still there and, at seven, your brother’s your whole world to you, provided he’s not a total prick. But she lived the closest to me, and I chose my friends out of convenience at seven.) 

I started screaming and crying and having a complete meltdown, pulling out Tim’s books, shaking some of the glitter onto the bed and then putting my face into the glitter, sobbing. I don’t know if Carrie even understood the nonsense I was spouting but I think she got the gist of it.

Thank God Carrie’s always been the level-headed one. She pulled on her hat and coat and dragged me along with her (I was seven. I was a lightweight. I mean, who isn’t at that age, but I was especially so.), past her extremely concerned mother holding steaming mugs of hot chocolate while I continued blubbing, muttering something to her mum. Once we were outside, Carrie stared at me with a deadpan expression, waiting for me to finish. (I mean, my brother was being  _ bullied  _ and he’s too nice to do anything about it. I was only seven! I wasn’t used to taking matters into my own hands. I was being distressed for the benefit of my brother!) I stifled my last few sobs and snuck into my garage to get my own hat and coat and we were off. Only then did I realise I had absolutely no clue where we were going.

“Wait - hey! Where are we going?”

“To Anna’s.”

I froze in the middle of the icy road, stunned. By the brilliance of the idea. Of course! Who better to reach out to than Anna Gretel? She was the nicest sophomore to us; she never exposed Tim or me if she found us and even lent Tim a copy of her script once. He was glowing and blushing the entire day.

“Carrie, that’s a _ ma _ zing! (lightweight, I told you) Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Don’t you know? I’m great at making plans.”

(In awe, walking slowly) “Carrie, you are brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.”

“Nah. Not much use being good at plans if you don’t have someone reckless to go along with them.”

She paused. All we could hear was the crunching of the salt beneath our boots. I thought the conversation had ended.

“That’s why I have you.”

And she turned around and smiled. I jogged carefully to catch up with her. Walking with her in the setting sun, I felt oddly peaceful. There was a blinding yellow glow over all the cars and driveways, and things just felt so  _ right _ . I think that was the moment I realised that we were going to be best friends. I squinted at her, trying to smile but it might have been more of a grimace because of the squinting, grabbed her gloved hand and we marched all the way to Anna’s house, determinedly stomping our feet in too-big boots.

When we arrived, I tiptoed and grasped the door knocker and gave two feeble knocks. After a while, as Carrie and I were arguing about whether we should knock louder again (“Olive, they don’t have super powers-” “Who’s to say?”) when the door opened and Mr. Gretel stuck his head out, wearing an apron and wielding a ladle coated in sauce. Carrie and I had the sense to duck, straightening up only when Mr. Gretel noticed us and sheepishly put away his ladle.

“Sorry, girls, you caught me in the middle of making dinner. Are you here to talk to Amber?” 

Carrie and I exchanged a look. We had no idea who Amber was, but I deduced that she must be a fellow classmate. Carrie was very obviously about to tell him the truth, that we were actually here to see Anna, when I quickly interjected. Carrie may be the master at making plans, but  _ I  _ was the master of improvisation. (Or, as Carrie likes to put it when she’s especially annoyed, the master of screwing things up. I beg to differ.)

“Yes! Yes, definitely. Is Amber in?”

As if Carrie’s openly confused glances weren't enough, I now also felt like a complete idiot. Of course Amber was in, no one but seven year old girls with too-nice brothers and their best friends would be out this close to dinnertime.

Mr. Gretel smiled slightly, his eyes crinkling at the edges. As far as adults went, Mr. Gretel was one of the nicer ones. He always smiled a lot and slipped us sweets when the other parents weren’t watching (in moderation).

“I know why you’re really here. You’re here for Anna, aren’t you?”

I gaped at him, Carrie stomped on my foot (pretty much sums up our friendship) to stop me from being so obvious. I shook myself and squeaked (in my already high-pitched seven-year-old voice).

“You do? But how could you possibly kno-”

“You want to plan Amber a surprise party for her birthday with her sister. Aw, Amber never mentioned she had such good friends at school.”

And just like that, we were jovially shoved into the house. Carrie kept mouthing...stuff...at me, but I was still recovering from our cosmic stroke of good luck. I was grinning, confident that nothing wrong could happen now. Mr. Gretel led us up to Anna’s room and knocked on it.

“Anna? You have company.”

The door swung open and revealed a tall 15-year-old, with a purple streak in her black bangs. She had her hair tied up in a high bun and wore hoop earrings that somehow made her neck seem longer. She had a slight smattering of freckles on her nose. That was the moment it truly sunk in; how scarily tall Anna was. Watching her slowly remove her headphones, clearly befuddled by why two seven-year-olds would ever want to meet her, I wondered how I ever thought this was a good idea. It didn’t help that it was only now that I realised that Carrie was trying to discuss what we should do when we were confronted by Anna.

“Dad, these are Amber’s friends.”

“Yes, but they’re here to make plans for a... _ secret birthday girl’s secret birthday party _ ...with her older sister!” said Mr. Gretel in a theatrically low whisper. Really, Carrie has the nerve to call  _ me  _ dramatic in front of a 40-something-year-old grown man doing vocal expressions.

“Dad, Amber’s at her piano class. You really don’t have to-”

“Oh, but the whispering’s part of the fun! I’ll leave you girls to it, then we wouldn’t want my masterpiece to burn.” Giving us a hearty wink, (seriously, he was like a cartoon character) he strode off, wiedling his ladle again.

Carrie and I slowly turned back and lifted our gaze to Anna. To our surprise, Anna was looking slightly bemused by all the events.

“Don’t let him lead you on; he just warms store-bought pasta sauce on the stove.”

Carrie was anxiously smothering her laughter, but I was too keyed up to stop my laughter. I snorted, the corner of Anna’s mouth lifted a little and Carrie let out a giggle. That set me off and we all laughed like idiotic hyenas in the doorway of Anna’s room. All the tension had dissolved and Anna had a wide smile on her face, inviting us into her room. 

Here’s the thing - you can tell a lot about a person from how their bedroom looks. We reverently stepped into her room, awe written all over our faces. It was messy, but all the best rooms are. There were posters of bands that Anna liked covering every inch of the ceiling. Her wardrobe was open and it held such a large and diverse range of fashion. From black combat boots decorated with silver ink to pastel high-low dresses, it was like a utopia for playing dress-up. There were shelves of books attached sporadically on the walls. There was a jewellery box open on her desk and I was surprised to see so many rings and chokers. But I loved the space next to the door the best. Her art stuff was open, and there was a beautiful acrylic painting of a blood-red rose on the wall which was extremely detailed and intricate.

Anna was putting away her paints and saw me staring at the rose.

“Do you like it? I’ve been working on it for over a year.”

I reeled a bit from being personally addressed by Anna _herself_. Carrie was busy looking at Anna’s books on the other side of the room, so I was left to answer her myself.

“Yeah, it’s gorgeous. It’s just that-” I faltered, thinking I was overstepping, but Anna smiled encouragingly so I continued.

“It’s just that - you like...indie/alternative music (I lifted my eyes to the ceiling) and wear combat boots, but you also wear pastel clothes and paint roses.”

Anna shrugged.

“Yeah, I get what you mean. But I like indie/alternative music, it...soothes me, in a way, but I also like pastel clothing and I love doing art. Who’s to stop me from loving both?”

I frowned, thinking hard. There wasn’t anything wrong with loving both, as far as I could see. Carrie joined our conversation.

“You’ve got quite a few books by Jane Austen. My mom’s a huge fan so she has almost every book of hers at home.”

Anna grinned.

“She’s one of my favourite authors. I also like Louisa May Alcott, and Virginia Woolf. I prefer classic literature to, say, today’s books, because they’re so about a simpler time, but are so raw and honest.”

“Are you a feminist?”   
  


I couldn’t help it; I blurted it out of the blue. Anna looked a bit startled, but took it in her stride.

“It’s just - Tim’s told me about them.”

I left out the part where he told me about them while adoringly gazing at Anna during the last rehearsal.

“I suppose you  _ could  _ say that, but the term ‘feminist’ has been so warped and everyone has a different version or definition if what it should be. I guess you could say I’m more for gender equality.”

I stared at her. I was so wholly taken by her. It was breathtaking, in a way, to see someone be so effortlessly and confidently themselves. 

“Why a rose? Why not any other flower?” Anna was treating us like equals, I just couldn’t resist. 

“I know it seems stereotypical, but a rose shares many qualities that women have, but people usually forget about. They come in so many colours, no two roses are the same. They look beautiful, and are resilient even in harsh weather. But don’t be fooled by their beauty - they have sharp thorns to protect them.”

Carrie spoke up.

“What’s your favourite book?”

“Code Name Verity by Elizabeth Wein. It questions almost every stereotype or assumption about women, which was especially difficult during a period like World War II. I love Julie’s and Maddie’s friendship, but it’s also a truly heartbreaking tale. I cry every time I read the Bridge scene.”

“Why do you like it so much if it makes you cry?”

Anna laughed. “All the best things make you cry a little on the inside. The novel opens the reader’s eyes too so much more, things you didn’t know or realise before.”

“So you still like it even though it makes you sad?”

“‘Ignorance is bliss,’ but I would rather be wise and sorrowful than ignorant and happy.”

Carrie drew closer with a reserved look on her face.

“Don’t people tease you about it? You know, being different?”

Anna’s smile melted and her eyebrows contracted a little. She had an intense look on her face and spoke quietly.

“Yeah, they do. So what do I do? Succumb to peer pressure? Cut off the parts of me they don’t like? No. I walk with my head held even higher, because they're assholes - I mean, meanies - with backward thinking.”

I was completely captivated by her at this point. She’s still my role model, to this day. I haven’t seen her in a while since she left town for college, but she remind in my memory, bright as ever - painting, reading books that people say she shouldn’t, wearing chokers with pastel clothing, accepting of everyone but giving zero (0) fucks about whatever anyone had to say about her. They could leave their opinions and social norms at the door.

“So. To business then. What do you guys have planned for Amber?”

Carrie and I exchanged a look.

“This sounds really terrible of us, but, we -”

I rolled my eyes. This was going to take a while if Carrie was going to take the diplomatic route.

“We’re not really friends with Amber.”

Carrie sucked in a breath as Anna’s eyes widened. I started to see traces of apprehension lurking in her eyes so I hastily corrected myself.

“I mean, we just don’t know her well enough. We’re sure she’s a great girl, I mean, how could she not be with a sister like you - and we would love to throw her a surprise birthday party, but that’s not why we’re here.”

Carrie and I held our breath and carefully watched Anna to determine her reaction. After the longest 30 seconds of my life, Anna nodded and sat down on her bed, gesturing for us to do the same.

“Alright then.” Anna cleared her throat. “Spill.”

Everything came tumbling out of our mouths. Carrie and I took turns narrating the story, our outrage overlapping the other’s as we ranted about the injustice of it all. I was so happy to see that Anna shared our sentiments as well. A frown was growing on her face and she actually let out a sound like a strangled cat when I told her about the glitter. She stood and started pacing around her room.

“I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve told Josh to back off. Tim’s only 10, for god’s sake! Can’t even pick on someone his own size. Pathetic.”

Anna abruptly turned to face us.

“So. What’s the plan?   
  


I looked at Carrie, who glumly shook her head.

“We don’t have one. That’s why we came to you.”

Anna tapped her lips thoughtfully, walking over to a chest of drawers which she started looking for something. After a minute, she straightened up and pulled out a CD.

“I have an idea. But I’ll need the two of you to convince Tim to come to rehearsal tomorrow. Can you do that?”

Carrie looked worried and was about to shake her head when I interrupted.

“Of course! I can make my brother do anything.”

Easier said than done.

The next day, I dressed up in my most suffering-theater-soul like clothing, that included an oversized coat and beret. I skipped to Tim’s room and knocked on his door.

“Tim! Rehearsals start soon, Come on, we don’t want to be late!”

Tim opened his door looking mystified.

“You want to come to...the rehearsals?”

Oh, brother dear, as lovely as you are, you are surprisingly slow on the uptake.

“Are they giving out free ice-cream there?”

And a massive prick that makes assumptions about his sister.

“NO! Maybe, I don’t know, but that’s not why I want to go. I have developed an interest in theater.”

“Overnight?”

“...yes.”

Tim looked suspicious and narrowed his eyes.

“You were nearly late for dinner last night. And you were with Caroline. What kept you?”

I huffed. Of all the times my brother decided to suddenly become Perceptive of Others, why did it have to be now?

“Never you mind. If you don’t want to come with me, I’ll go with Carrie. It’s just that Mr. Brocklehurst has changed the finale number and I thought you might like to see it.” I was lying through my teeth but had my fingers crossed that Tim would buy it. Luckily, he did. He is (was?)  _ such  _ a theater nerd.

His face brightened a bit and he smiled slightly. He nodded and turned to get his stuff. I dragged him out of the house as he was pulling on his hat and gloves when Carrie walked out of her house at the same time. She had a nervous sort of smile on her face and I could tell she was giddy with anticipation too.

The walk to the theatre was fairly uneventful; Carrie and I mostly listened to Tim spout theory after theory about what the changed finale would be like, but Carrie and I both knew he wasn’t even close. When we reached our cosy hiding spot, we removed our coats, gloves and hats and snuggled down waiting for the performance.

Mr. Brocklehurst hadn’t reached yet. Anna was onstage with her back towards us, talking to the group of sophomore bullies, handing them scripts and parcels hastily. They looked at the materials dubiously and slowly shuffled backstage. Anna turned and glanced at us, smiling slightly. She walked into the lighting booth (Tim was blushing like the setting sun at this point. There was silence for about ten minutes when some music started to play.

Carrie and I had to stuff our fists into our mouths so that we wouldn’t give ourselves away. The plan was working so flawlessly. “I Want To Break Free” by Queen was blasting on the speakers. The boys were apprehensively walking onstage and they were a  _ sight  _ to see. Wearing pink tutus, stickers on their faces and glitter in their hair, they slowly started twirling and dancing a bit, as Anna had instructed. But they quickly realised it was a prank when the rest of the cast broke out into gales of laughter, and people were whipping out their phones to film them. They stomped angrily from the stage, pulling off their absurd costumes as they went.

I looked at Tim expectantly, expecting to see him smiling. I was shocked to see him stony-faced and irritated. He wore his satchel and slid down the ladder, stealthily making his way backstage. Carrie and I stared at each other in horror for a minute, before scooping up our stuff scrambling after him.

For a pretty short 10-year-old, Tim could move pretty fast. Or maybe he just seemed fast because we were even shorter seven-year-olds. We crept behind him and saw him walk up to the boys who were peeling off the stickers and talking to each other in angry tones. I plugged my ears and closed my eyes, expecting the worst.

When no explosion followed, I opened my eyes and peered at them curiously. Carrie had her mouth hanging open, and her eyes looked like they were about to burst from her head. Tim was having a civil conversation with the boys. I hoped that maybe he was telling them off sternly but the boys looked too blank to tell. Finally, Tim pulled out a granola bad from his satchel and offered it to one of them. The boy looked at the floor and accepted it, muttering something. The rest of the boys mumbled some things too, looking equally awkward. Tim turned and immediately saw up spying through a crack in the door. Carrie and I leapt back and watched Tim join us, looking oddly triumphant.

“It’s rude to eavesdrop, you know.”

“We weren’t eavesdropping-” (Carrie)

“We were trying to, but you were too soft.” (swift kick in the skin from Carrie. Ouch.)

Tim shook his head.

“It was you, wasn’t it? Both of you. You went to Anna because you were concerned about me.”

He had only the slightest tinge of pink in his cheeks, and his eyes shone with something I couldn’t quite describe.

“That was...terribly sweet of you, but also terribly thoughtless. Because of yesterday, I know what it feels like to be ridiculed in front of others. It feels horrendous, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, not even my worst enemy.”

He pulled Carrie and I into a hug. I felt a hot, pricking sensation in my eyes. I sniffled as we broke apart and even Carrie was looking really ashamed.

“When did you become so wise?”

The three of us turned and saw Anna, walking towards her hands in her pockets. Tim looked back determinedly, but I could see a steady blush creeping up his neck from his shirt collar. Anna sighed, and explained.

“I confess, the whole thing was my idea. The poor dears were so worried and I completely  _ abhor  _ bullies, I guess I didn’t think it through well enough. Well done, Timothy.”

Tim was smiling so wide I thought his face would split in two. I rolled my eyes and Carrie smiled. There was a scuffling at the back door and the lanky figure of Mr. Brocklehurst came into view.

“Ah, Anna, hello. I hope you kids aren’t here to gatecrash rehearsals yet again.” He said with mock sternness, with a twinkle in his eye. He focused on Timothy and sighed.

“Young man, I still think you are far too young to participate in a production like this. But if there’s one thing I admire, it’s passion and dedication. How would you like to be Assistant Props Manager? You could learn a lot from Anna.”

Carrie and I were secretly high-fiving behind Mr. Brocklehurst’s back and having a victory party. Even Anna joined in a bit. To our surprise, Timothy shook his head.

“Thank you very much for the opportunity, Sir. I really appreciate it.” He switched his gaze to us, frozen with shock.

“But I think I’d like to be a kid just a little longer.”

Saying so, Timothy opened his sachet and scooped a handful of glitter that was still inside and ran his fingers through his hair. His hair was streaked with glitter and he looked genuinely cheerful for the first time in the last 24 hours. He waved to Anna and Mr. Brocklehurst, who was looking at him approvingly, and linked arms with Carrie and I as we walked out of the theater. Of course, it was bitterly cold outside so we spent a minute donning our winter wear before walking. As Tim was pulling on his coat, I took a picture of him with my disposable camera. (I was set on becoming a world-renowned photographer at seven. Sue me.) Tim grinned and yanked his hat over his ears.

“Who wants to go ice-skating?”

There were yells and shrieks from Carrie and I as we ran ahead of Tim and raced home to get our skates. Tim waited patiently outside for us to return. We spent a good three hours at the park, skating and laughing until our noses and fingers felt like they were about to fall off. We joined Tim on a frosty bench to get our breath back. It was one of the happiest days of my life.

It’s been a while since I’ve had a happy day like that.

We kept our promise to Mr. Gretel and threw Amber a smashing birthday party. Turns out that she was just too shy to make friends but Carrie and I managed to help her out of her shell a bit. I was heartbroken the day Anna left for college. It was a week or so after Tim had left for his school year and she felt dreadful about leaving too, because she was scared I’d suddenly feel really lonely. I was heartbroken, but she promised to return as soon as she could. Maybe not next year, but maybe the year after that. I gave her a tight hug and she gave me this journal. And I haven’t stopped writing since.

2.30 p.m., 30 August 2020

Anyway, now we’re at the theatre again, years later. Amber was here too when Carrie and I arrived; she was thinking of trying out for Lights Manager that year. I was with her in the booth trying to teach Carrie to amplify her voice so she would be loud enough. Carrie was a bit shaky at first, stumbling a bit in the semi-darkness, but after a while Amber had an idea. She shone a spotlight and Carrie who blinked confusedly. She smiled sheepishly when she realised what we were doing and moved out of the light. Amber rotated it so Carrie was suddenly lit up again and she tried to walk away again. This kept repeating until Carrie finally accepted it, blushing slightly. Her confidence started improving after that, and by time we stopped for a break, she was loads better.

Amber and Carrie are having a hearty chat while I’m writing. From what I can hear, it’s basically Carrie complaining about me and Amber laughing about it. I think we’ll be heading home for lunch soon. Two more days to the treehouse meeting - kind of stressed.


	6. The Treehouse Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olive isn't great at making friends, that's why she has only one, very splendid, friend. But there was a time she did make a friend - or took on someone's charity case, however you'd like to see it.

**Chapter 5: The Treehouse Meeting**

_To Timothy -_

_All Tyler wanted was to be loved,_

_And sometimes I wonder if that was all you wanted too._

_-f.r._

8 a.m., 1 September 2020 

TODAY IS THE DAY. I am completely terrified. Carrie _needs_ to stand up to Krissy. She _says_ she will, but this is a high-risk situation, and I just don’t have enough faith in Carrie’s courage. But I know Carrie will kick me out of her house if I keep hovering over her so I decided to get a headstart to the venue. Two hours early. 

Timothy somehow heard me when I was about to step out the front door and came tumbling down the stairs all wrapped up in his blankets in his haste to catch me before I left. He handed me a bundle of bread (I didn’t know my brother kept bread in his room) and asked me to feed it to the ducks at the pond in the park after my meeting. Normally I would throw the bread back in his face, but I was feeling especially generous and _am_ trying to be a Nicer and More Pleasant person, after my form teacher lowered my conduct from ‘Excellent’ to ‘Very Good’ because I was “too abrasive and blunt.” I’ll drag Carrie to help me with the bread.

I hope Tyler doesn’t see me; he might get freaked ou- dammit he’s seen me. Very Awkward. He’s - waving at me? Is he shooing me?

Now he’s coming out. NO! Stay inside! Don’t confront me!

But since when has anyone ever listened to me?

8.32 a.m., 1 September 2020 

Tyler’s parents had already left for work, and he normally helps his Papa at his bakery, but he’s going there later today because of the meeting. He’s awfully sweet. He brought out a tray of fresh croissants for me. Well, it was for everyone, but I started on my share. Then he went in again and brought out jams. JAMS. I’m sure they were delicious, but I just can’t stand jam.

“Aw, Tyler, you shouldn’t have.” (having just seen that Tyler was bringing Jam)

“It’s nothing, really.” (unscrewing the jams, still completely oblivious)

“No, I’m serious, Tyler. You really shouldn’t have.”

“And I’m serious too. It really was no trouble at all.” (was he always so unbelievably dense?)

“I’m allergic.”

“You are? Oh, I’m so sorry, I had no idea!” (I can’t be angry at him, he’s just too nice)

“...out of curiosity, what _exactly_ are you allergic to?”

“Sugar.” (deadpanned.)

He looked quite shocked and confused, so I changed the subject.

“Anyway,” I hastily spoke before he decided to never give me another baked good from his home. “It must be interesting, having two dads.”

Tyler smiled. And started talking. With dazzling teeth. Like, distractingly dazzling. And they’re so even. Wow.

“...and he comes home late, a lot of days, but Papa’s always at home or at the bakery, where I help out too, so I don’t really feel lonely. Besides, they’re all I’ve had since...forever, so I guess that it’s alright, actually.”

I smiled, even though I had missed most of what he said. 

“Did you do something to your teeth?”

Tyler looked a bit surprised, but obliged. Ever the gentleman.

“Dad wrestled me into his office and made me get my teeth properly cleaned yesterday. They are a bit shiny, aren’t they?”

He was looking so self-conscious I felt really bad for bringing it up. I shook my head and assured him they looked fine.

Tyler and I were Chemistry lab partners last year. He’s the youngest in our year, with his birthday being on 29 June. He was always attentive during lessons and relatively cheerful, but there were times where he would seem really troubled or anxious. He also had a kind of... _sad_ smile. But he was always good fun.

In one of our Chemistry practicals, we had to prepare Copper (II) Sulfate crystals and there was a prize for the pair that managed to create the biggest crystal. Mr. Vance always let us choose our prizes, no matter how expensive, as long as they were reasonable. Naturally, everyone was ready to fight tooth and nail to win. But this was especially tricky; we only had an hour to prepare the crystals. We needed to mix the solution to evaporate the excess water before the time ran out but mixing it too hard would break the crystals. The trick was to find the right balance. Tyler was fanning our beaker and I was shakily stirring the solution, eyes watering from being so close to the bunsen burner.

After a while, Tyler slowed down and finally stopped fanning.

“What are you doing?! We need to get the prize!” I was very hysterical at this point and tearing up so badly that Tyler was just a blurry blob.

“Have you thought about the prize we could get?”

I stared at him. Dumbfounded. With a strong urge to hit him over the head with something large. And heavy. Like a rock.

“We can discuss this aFT-”

“No, but seriously. I was thinking about chocolate.”

I dropped my glass rod into the beaker and straightened up, with piqued curiosity.

“Of all the things you could ask for, you would ask for _candy_?”

Tyler shrugged. “Sure. I mean, the prize is supposed to be something we want and I like chocolate. Snickers, specifically. You can never have too many Snickers bars.”

I snorted. “I beg to differ.”

“What would _you_ ask for, then? World domination?”

I opened my mouth to retort, but stopped. And thought. Hard. What would I ask for? Something huge and glamorous, no doubt. But I didn’t want anything huge and glamorous. And Tyler had a point. Chocolate makes people happy. They even repel demandroids, creatures that suck out your soul, according to Tim.

“W-Well.” God, this was embarrassing. “Now that I, um, think about it...Snickers wouldn’t be too bad.”

Tyler was smiling very slightly. But I knew he was gloating internally.

“Ok, fine.” I huffed. “You win. Chocolate it is.”

But Tyler shook his head and continued staring at a spot. I followed his gaze and saw he was looking at our beaker. Our beaker that didn’t have any water left in it. Our beaker _with the largest copper (II) sulfate crystal I had ever seen_ (which doesn’t really mean much , but hey). I screamed (hence making Krissy poke herself in the eye with her glass rod two tables down. It was the icing on the cake) and obnoxiously waved my hand in the air till Mr. Vance slowly made his way to our table, shaking his head.

Of course, for it to be a fair competition, we had to wait until the hour was up to have a look at everyone’s crystals. Ours was still the largest, so we won (Krissy looked like she was going to blow a fuse)! Tyler and I got our chocolate the next day.

Snickers never tasted sweeter.

That was back when Tyler was living with his biological parents. One day, I had accidentally taken Tyler’s book home with me so I walked to his house after school to give it back. I was just outside his door and was about to knock when I heard loud yells coming from the inside. I backed away and retraced my steps a bit and stood near the hydrangea bush in the lawn, not a minute too soon either. 

His dad was dragging Tyler onto the front porch by his collar and threw him off the stairs. Tyler stumbled but managed to land on his feet. There was more indecipherable yelling, this time from both Tyler and his dad. I screwed my eyes shut and clamped my hands over my ears, but I just couldn’t get the shrill sound of Tyler’s screams, voice cracking with emotion, out of my head. 

The door banged shut. I waited a few beats. Opened my eyes and ears. Tyler was looking at me. His collar was still slightly out of hape from where his dad and gripped it, and the left knee of his trousers was torn. He looked so _ashamed_ . I wasn’t proud of what I did next. I dropped his Chemistry textbook at his feet and ran. I ran and ran and didn’t stop running until I reached Carrie’s home. I was sobbing, sweaty and gasping for breath and traumatised. And it wasn’t even my parents. It didn’t happen to _me_.

The encounter kept replaying in my head the entire weekend. I didn’t tell Carrie. I don’t think, even today, I can physically bring myself to tell anyone what happened that day. Tyler didn’t come to school on Monday. Naturally, I went into full-blown panic. I dropped an anonymous letter by the school counselor’s office with very vague remarks to instigate an inquiry about Tyler Blake’s home. 

Tyler didn’t come to school on Tuesday, but was the talk of the school on Wednesday. Students living near Tyler reported seeing Tyler’s parents being arrested and taken away. Tyler was in another police car. There were many nasty rumours flying about the place, ranging from it being a publicity stunt by Tyler’s dad who was a prospective presidential candidate to the Blake family being involved in a complex heist.

No one saw Tyler for a few months. I don’t think anyone missed him either. I did. I had to partner Krissy until the end of the year, and my hands would itch to use any of the extremely-dangerous-if-used-improperly substances on her. 

Eventually, the media revealed that Mr. Blake was charged in court for six counts of domestic abuse and his wife was charged with four counts of psychological neglect. Mr. Blake was jailed immediately, but Mrs. Blake had escaped and was (and still is) on the run from the law. Tyler had been jumping between different families in foster care and finally found one that suited him. A gay couple, Mr. Earl Crieghton and Mr. Justin Creighton, who married just six months ago, was ready to adopt Tyler. The only problem was they lived in a different state, and as terrible as his parents were, Tyler didn’t feel ready to leave the town he grew up in. Tyler discussed things with him and the Creightons decided to move here. Mr. Earl opened up a bakery here and Mr. Justin opened his own clinic as a dentist. Of course, the media didn’t report even half of this. I got my information from a much more reliable and direct source.

I was drawing the curtains of my bedroom window one night when I spotted a shadowy figure hanging around near the lamp post right outside my house. This was the day the media report about Tyler’s parents came out. I wasn’t the least bit frightened. I did what any sane person would do. I bundled up in my scratchiest cardigan and retrieved the megaphone from the attic. I walked out onto my front porch and the figure looked up when they heard the front door open. I switched on the megaphone.

“GET OFF MY PROPERTY-”

“Jesus, alright, do you have to use that thing?”

I frowned. The voice was vaguely familiar. But I didn’t turn the megaphone off just yet.

“ _Tyler?_ ”

“Yes, it’s me. Can you please turn that thing off?”

I grinned and obliged. I stepped off my porch and walked towards him. He still had that sad sort of smile. But he was a bit different now. He got a haircut, grew a few inches, and was wearing new clothes.

“Word on the street is that you’re the mastermind behind the great diamond mines heist in Africa.”

“I didn’t take you as someone who listened to word on the street.”

“Good. You got the right measure of me.”

Tyler pulled out a pair of Snickers bars.

“So, in other words, I’m correct to say that you would definitely agree to share a bar of chocolate in the middle of the night?”

I snorted. “It’s nine p.m., it’s hardly the middle of the night.”

We sat on the steps of my front porch while Tyler filled me in about everything that happened to him the past couple months. I punctuated his talking with descriptions of the horrendous scenarios I had to overcome with Krissy as my partner. We had a good laugh, and the chocolate finished far too quickly. When we were done talking and laughing and ranting until our stomach hurt and our eyes were blurry with tears, Tyler looked at his watch.

“Well, I best be off then. Thank you.”

“For what? You brought the Snickers. And don’t thank me for hearing you out; I was doing it for purely selfish reasons - to sate my own curiosity.”

“For not thinking crap about me despite what you saw that day. And for writing that letter.”

I smiled awkwardly. I hadn’t thought about that day or the anonymous tip I slipped the school counselor in months. At least, I tried not to.

“Well, someone had to do something about it, and since you are a complete lightweight I had to take matters into my own hands.”

Tyler laughed. “You know, some people would call you a meddler.”

“ _Goodnight_ , Tyler.”

Tyler stood up and started walking. I turned towards my door.

“Hey, Liv?”

I turned around exasperatedly. “Tyler, it’s almost midnight. Do you _want_ me to get my megaphone out again?”

“Thanks for being the sister I never had.”

I swear, the moment he said that, my heart went out to him even more than it did before. I could always talk to Tim about whatever I wanted to, but I never thought what it would be like to be the advisor.

“Someone has to keep you out of trouble. Might as well be me.”

I was so pathetic, melting at the smallest things. But Tyler had suffered so much, and he was finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. All this time, having to endure such torment at home, while still being completely respectful and kind towards others was no small feat. I was just so happy for him finally being able to come out of that dark phase of his life. Scarred, but alive. And no one deserved to finally be loved more than Tyler.

9.58 a.m., 2 more minutes to go. Krissy’s here and being a total diva about having to sit on the floor of the treehouse so Tyler, being the nice guy that he is, has gone to fetch a stool for her. She was completely fine with sitting on the floor _last_ year and now she’s acting like the very idea of it is completely unspeakable (“You can’t possibly expect me to sit on this-this- moss!”). It’s wood, Kristina. WOOD.

It’s just the two of us here since Tyler went to fetch Krissy a stool. There was a palpable tension in the air. We hadn’t seen each other since

Since the fountain incident.

I’m feeling kind of bad about it now. I mean, of _course_ Krissy was provoking us. That’s what she did; it’s what the universe was used to. I guess it just got a bit too sensitive.

Maybe I overreacted.

Maybe I should apologise.

Bleughh. Apologising to _Krissy_.

But I guess I can be the bigger person here.

I opened my mouth to say something at the same time as her, except she spoke first.

“So, push any more people into fountains lately?”

Which was just so hilariously unexpected and caught me so off guard I burst out laughing. Probably not the best thing to do because Krissy started turning red. Luckily, Tyler returned and Krissy finally had reason to Ignore Me.

The one time I try to do something good, it crashes and burns miserably. Anyway,

Carrie still hasn’t shown up, and Krissy’s being really smug about it. I’m really worried. What if she’s too nervous to come? What if one of Krissy’s minions kidnapped her? Oh, I knew it was a bad idea to trust that-

Oh my god.

Oh my GOD.

Carrie’s

Here.

I don’t believe this.

11.54 a.m., 1 September 2020 

I don’t particularly care for feeding the birds; the loaf is there if they want it. I have _things_ to write while they have _bread_ to peck.

Carrie looked absolutely stunning when she showed up. Well, not fabulous, but that’s what made it so perfect. She was wearing a white lace net top that Isabella had gifted her for her birthday a few years back, with jeans. She never wore it because she was too nervous it wouldn’t be perfect but _of course_ it was. She was walking with _Isabella_. She was the one who probably forced Carrie into the top in the first place.

I COULD JUST ABOUT KISS HER!

Isabella and Carrie climbed up, along with a few others, and we were ready to start.

“Alright, first order of business. Croissants for everyone!” Tyler handed around the tray. He was chosen as coordinator of all Fall play rehearsals and meetings as he was the most neutral party. There were other perks too, such as free baked goods.

Tyler brushed away some crumbs and opened his notebook. “Now that everyone has had a chance to read the script and decide your roles, who wants to go first?”

To no one’s surprise, Krissy wanted to go first. “I would like to play Fiona in this pantomime.”

Even though we put up our play in the fall, the play is always Christmas-themed. Like in our first year, when we put a spin on the Classic tale of the Nutcracker. Clara would be enticed to stay in the Land of the Sugarplum Fairy forever, because of the sweet pastries, but decides to go home in the end because she realises that sugary delights cannot replace the warmth and comfort of family. 

This year, Tyler had teamed up with Janet to write the play. We always write our plays ourselves, or at least change up certain classics a bit because those ideas were part of another time. We wanted to tell our own stories, create our own legends. This year’s play was about a girl called Fiona, who didn’t like Christmas. On Christmas Eve, she ends up in the attic of her house and finds a mirror. After that, she gets sucked into it, and enters a world of glass people, with limited emotions. They, too, do not enjoy Christmas and are very practical about life. Fiona spends some time there but realises how cold and unfeeling life is without the warmth and comfort of feelings. When Fiona learns the true meaning of Christmas spirit, she returns home just in time to spend Christmas Day with her family.

Cheesily touching.

And, of course, Krissy wanted _her_ name in lights. (Figuratively. We don’t have the budget to make an actual sign for our show. Or have any desire to include _her_ name on it.)

“That’s...that’s a, um...idea. We’ll vote on it after auditions.” Tyler looked very strained. Poor Tyler. Stress isn’t good for the heart.

Krissy looked pleased, anyway. Having put her name forward for the lead role, Krissy was done with the meeting (as always). Amber spoke next, and the vote was unanimous - Amber was our newest Lights manager. There was a small round of quiet applause.

Things didn’t go as smoothly after that.

Carrie spoke up. “I’d like to run for Glass Figurine 1.” Glass Figurine 1 (G.F. 1) was the most major character after Fiona in the play. And of course, Krissy was having none of that. Having to work with Carrie would be torture for her. Especially if Carrie decided to be especially stern with her and take absolutely no nonsense from her.

In the play, Fiona meets G.F. 1 first. G.F. 1 is, at first, close friends with G.f. 2. But when Fiona arrives, G.F. 1 becomes more attracted to her because of how different she is, damaging his relationship with G.F. 2, represented by a crack that starts forming in G.F. 2. Towards the end of the play, G.F. 1 becomes heartbroken when Fiona says she wants to return to the real world (Fiona’s a bit of a bitch. Krissy might just be perfect for the lead role this time.). G.F. 1, extremely hurt, gives a bit of a long monologue lecturing Fiona on the importance of treasuring the love from others, while ashamedly berating his own mistake of casting G.F. 2 away. We never really find out if Fiona learns her lesson, or if G.F. 1 was able to save G.F. 2, whose crack had deepened to almost split her in two by the time Fiona leaves.

Krissy narrowed her eyes and elbowed Janet in the ribs. She rubbed her ribcage and hastily started talking when Krissy gave her A Look. “Um, actually, _I_ wanted to go for the Glass Figurine 1 role.”

I wanted to tear my hair out of my head. It was so _painfully_ obvious (to me at least) that Janet had no intention of trying out for G.F. 1 until 5 seconds ago, when Krissy _forced_ her to raise her hand, just like how she was _forcing_ Janet to try out for the role. Just to spite me. I gritted my teeth. I couldn’t stay as a silent bystander any longer.

“Janet’s already helped so much with the script, _haven’t you Janet?_ ” I said, baring my teeth at her so she recoiled. But Krissy was quick to fight fire with fire.

“Maybe she has, but she’s just so enthusiastic about the play, she can’t help but be involved, _isn’t that right, Janet_?”

“Oh, please, don’t make me laugh! Janet doesn’t even like acting! She has so much fun working in wings, something _you_ would know if you had worked backstage with her, like _I_ did last year, _right, Janet_?”

“Caroline couldn’t say boo to a goose either, but I don’t see anyone questioning _her_ choice to act this year. This is biasedness, plain and simple. Besides, it’s not like anyone has a problem with Janet doing multiple things, other than _you,_ obviously.”

“Me, have a problem with a fellow lover of the Arts? Not bloody likely. I only have a problem with people who force their ‘friends’ into uncomfortable situations!”

“I only have a problem with people who make everything about _themselves_!”

I let out a derisive snort at that - I thought it didn’t even make any sense until I caught Carrie’s eye. And Carrie looked...angry. What? Didn’t she see I was defending her ass here? And she has the audacity to be _angry_ ? Anyone else would have just sat down and watched her struggle to defend herself - I was actually _doing_ something. Krissy was looking all smug and triumphant and Tyler cleared his throat awkwardly. I got the hint and backed off. Tyler gave a kind smile when he saw how deflated I was.

“Let’s just sort out the onstage roles after auditions. That way, we can get Mr. Brocklehurst’s opinion too. Let’s just focus on the other roles.”

So the backstage staff was divided up among the rest of us. I became Stage Manager. I grinned at Carrie when I was appointed but she was stonily looking in the other direction. Ok, so maybe I blew things out of proportion and focused them on _me_ , but was all of this really necessary? 

When we adjourned, I immediately sought out Carrie, who was talking with Isabella at the foot of the tree. I climbed down and patiently waited for their conversation to finish, but they didn’t look like they were going to stop talking anytime soon, so I interrupted.

“Caroline.” (Firmly. I wasn’t going to take any more nonsense from Carrie today.”

Carrie stiffly turned and glanced at me.

“Olivia.” (Oh, she wants to full-name _me_?)

“We need to talk.”  
  
“So talk.”  
  
“ _Privately_.”

I started dragging Carrie away but I couldn't. I turned my head back incredulously and saw Carrie with her arm wrapped around the trunk of the tree.

“I’m sorry, but we’ll have to talk _another_ time. I’m talking to _Isabella_ right now. She’s quite interested in what _I_ have to say about tulle.”

“I can leave if you guys need to talk.” (Isabella. Ever the sweetheart.)

“NO!” (Both of us. I could already tell this wasn’t going to end well.)

I was seething by now, and breathing heavily through my nose. Carrie was glaring back at me defiantly. How dare she make a jab at my alleged “self-centeredness” with Isabella right there? Does she not know about the saying “don’t wash your dirty linen in public.”? She’s scrubbing _right_ in front of Isabella and I could just scream. From anger. From hurt.

From sadness.

So I screwed up my nose (I don’t know why, I just do that. It always made Tim laugh when I did that whenever we had a fight.) and spoke very clearly, so that Carrie would not miss a single thing.

“Here it is, Carrie: I’m sorry for being a caring friend who’s always looking out for you. I’m sorry for sticking up for you when you won’t stick up for _yourself_. I’m sorry for being a friend who doesn’t let you be hurt by others, even for a minute. I’m sorry for being a friend.”

Then I turned and marched off, my eyes heavy with tears that were threatening to spill. God, I was such a lightweight. If she thinks I’m always making everything about me, _fine!_ She can do everything _herself_ , with her brand new best buddy _Isabella_ . Do all our sleepovers where I listened into the early hours of the morning about how deeply in love she was with Izzy not count? _She_ wasn’t there to listen to how happy Carrie was the day she bought the very last Jane Austen book so that she had the entire collection. And Isabella doesn’t even _know_ her that well!

She doesn’t know her like I do.

No one could know Carrie like I do.

No one could know me like Carrie does.

We never fought. I mean, we have, but _I_ was always the stubborn one. Carrie was always the one who tried to resolve things. And since Carrie was being stubborn this time, I tried to fix things instead of her. But she didn’t even seem remotely interested in what I had to say. I mean, there’s a duck staring at me right now. Right now, he’s giving me more attention than Carrie. A duck beats my best friend. Maybe the duck is my new best friend. At least he won’t be able to spout nonsense like me being “self-centered” or “not caring”. Ugh.

I mean, the duck makes a much better friend. Hi duck. Aw, it’s waddling towards me.

Stupid duck was selfish and only wanted me to chew on my journal. Fuck you duck. Stick to your fucking bread.

Oh no, _Krissy’s_ here. And Cathy. On the other side of the fountain. This is so weird. I don’t think I can handle Double Wilson after the disastrous meeting. I’ll just quietly slip away.

3 p.m., 1 September 2020 

My hand is still shaking so bad I can barely write. To be fair, I had every intention of slipping away unnoticed until Krissy and Cathy started talking. I’d never seen the Wilson sisters talk to each other in public (Krissy always ignored her sister, who seemed indifferent about it) so I was curious to know what they would talk about. (I know, I know, busybody.)

“I don’t understand why you can’t just drive me home. Mom and Dad bought you a car, you might as well use it!”

“I already told you, I can’t. Not today. I’m meeting someone here later.” (Cathy seems...surprisingly patient.)

“Who? Not that Tim weirdo, I hope.” (You see these fingers, Krissy? Fingers with the short but sharp nails? Imagine these fingers repeatedly stabbing your eyes. ‘Cause that’s what’s going to happen if you don’t shut the fuck up about my brother soon.)

Someone’s knocking at the front door.

Oh well, Tim will get it. On with the story.

“He’s _not_ a weirdo. (I know. I’m still reeling in shock, too. Who knew any member of the Wilsons would have even a semblance of a backbone?) He’s nice, and sweet.”

“(rolls her eyes) He’s not going to get you anywhere.”

“(confused) I...don’t _expect_ him to…‘get me’ anywhere.”

It actually breaks my heart to write the next part.

“Oh, please! Just how naive are you? You don’t think he hangs out with you because you’re _nice_ now. He hangs out with you because you’re still _Catherine Wilson_. Your name being associated with his is just what he needs to get...whatever he wants!”

“STOP IT! That’s a horrible lie and you know it!” (Old Cathy would be all shrieky and accusatory by now. New Cathy was just angry and a bit loud. Wow.)

There’s still someone at the door. Why hasn’t Tim-

Oh, right, Tim was out when I reached home.

Well, then, they can wait till Tim gets home. I’m not in the mood to deal with anymore ducks or the like. 

“Why does anyone do nice things for others, anyway? Why’d you think Mom and Dad got you a _brand new_ car when you already had one from last year? Because it’s another chance for Dad to show off! Because it gives Mom something else to drop her name in the paper again! Because it makes them look _good_!”

I know. I know. I knew Krissy was nasty, and mean, and didn’t give a damn about anyone’s feelings.

I just didn’t think it also applied to family.

I felt really bad for listening in now. It seemed too private, something that was just for family. I wanted to leave immediately. Too late, I heard Krissy stomp away towards the gate of the park. That would require her to pass _me_. I’d never live it down if she caught me eavesdropping. She’d call me a hypocrite and all that (which I guess I sort of deserve.). So I did the next best thing.

I jumped into the fountain and grabbed a duck. Specifically, the same duck that was eyeing my journal With Interest earlier.

Picture Krissy, wearing the height of fashion, glamorous and arrogant, looking at me, drenched and clutching a duck like my life depended on it. In the very same fountain that I pushed Krissy not more than a week ago.

I don’t believe it, someone’s _still_ knocking at the door. Can’t they just go away? And where _is_ Tim? Why isn’t he back yet?

It _might_ be Tim who’s at the door. He might’ve forgotten his keys or something. Oh well, I’ll find out in a few minutes. Or half an hour. Or whenever I feel like going down.

Krissy smirked, clearly thinking the same thing. Yes, HAHA, bloody hilarious, now please go away.

“I like ducks.” I blurted out. Something to make the situation any less awkward.

She just sneered at me and continued walking, whispering “freak” under her breath.

Freak?

You just insulted your sister, _hurt_ her feelings, and walked off like nothing happened, just because you wanted to be _bratty_ since you weren’t getting a ride home (YOU LIVE A WALKING DISTANCE AWAY FROM THE PARK.). Right now, I’m _proud_ to be a duck freak. Quack quack bitch.

I gingerly stepped out of the fountain (letting go of the duck as soon as Krissy was out of the gate) and ran a few circles to try and dry myself a bit. I was already a bit dizzy, still reeling with shock, and I felt like an idiot after a while. So I squeezed out as much water as I could from my things and walked home. 

I dried myself _properly_ at home, and curled up with this journal. Tim was out, which was fortunate, otherwise he would’ve started interrogating me with useless questions like, “why are you wet?”, "did you push Kristina into a fountain again?” or even “why is there a duck in our backyard that refuses to leave?”. I was planning on telling Carrie about what I heard, but remembered we weren’t talking at the moment (I think). So I curled up with my book instead.

WHY IS THERE SOMEONE WHO KEEPS HAMMERING AT MY DOOR


	7. Ice Cream Conundrums

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olive answers the door and unexpectedly spends an evening with people who are strangers, yet at the same time feel like people she's known all her life. But life is rarely so kind, and I'm sad to say that the end isn't half as cheery as the beginning. Then again, when is it ever?

**Chapter 6: Ice Cream Conundrums**

_To Timothy -_

_You didn’t need to see what was right in front of you._

_Only what was right inside your heart._

_-f.r._

11.52 p.m., 1 September 2020

The craziness of today has exceeded all expectations. I was caught _so_ off-guard it hurts. It starts with the mysterious visitor at the door.

Turns out, it wasn’t Timothy or some pesky salesman. Or anyone even remotely normal. I was in a bit of a temper because I didn’t want to be pulled away from my writing, yet there I was. I yanked open the door, prepared to yell at whatever imbecile mule of a person who was being so annoying. I tried to step outside but bumped into the person, who was apparently standing so close to the door. I stepped back, feeling disoriented, and looked up.

It was a pale boy, and there were many... _odd_ things about him. Not that he was a freak, things just seemed slightly... _odd_ . He _looked_ really tall (though later I found out it’s just because of the jeans) and was wearing normal clothes, if you could call a My Little Pony shirt with jeans normal. (Seriously, how did he even manage to find one in his size?) He had...blue eyes? Maybe green. I’m not too sure. And he was smiling like crazy. It was a contagious sort of smile. I had to physically stop myself from grinning back at him, even though I was ready to yell at him a second ago.

(God, I feel like I’m giving a police report. Yes, officer, _that_ is the man who is depriving me of my writing time.)

“Ah. I was beginning to think you weren’t home. Lily said it would be rude to break in, so I kept hammering away. Didn’t you hear me?”

“Yes, I did hear you.” I was starting to feel my anger rise up again. “I was _hoping_ you would take the hint and go away.”

He stopped smiling at that. Good. It was getting on my nerves.

“Who are you? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

And he started smiling again. Blast it. And started talking in some thick accent.

“Ah, yes, that is because I am, how do you say, _foreign_ . I am not local. The name is _Finn_ . Very pleased to meet you.”  
  
And he stooped like he was going to KISS THE BACK OF MY HAND which was when I completely lost it and kicked him in the stomach. Or slightly below that.

He doubled over and whimpered. Just like Timothy would.

Timothy!

It all fell into place. I knew who this- this monstrosity of a boy was.

_Dr. Cupid_.

It all made sense - the same (slight?) cockiness, the same sense of humour.

And he mentioned someone called Lily.

Could it be possible that I was about to meet the object of my brother’s (once upon a time) affections?

“Um, sorry about the kick. I didn’t - I mean, I _panicked_...” Dear god. What was he going to think of me? Someone comes within 2 feet of me and I incapacitate them. I hope he isn’t in too much pain to still tell me what the actual hell was going on.

“Finn?” There was someone on the porch. Someone _sensible_ enough to wait in a dignified manner, for the resident to return home. And that someone was absolutely _perfect_. From what I could see, at least.

It was a girl. It was Lily. I just knew it, it had to be her. She was pretty, in a subtle way. She tucked a book she was reading under her arm and walked towards us. She had dark brown hair and olive skin. She was wearing a soft cashmere sweater with dark blue jeans, and a winter green coat. Looking like the stock photo of ‘normal’.

AND (and this is the most exciting part) there was something tucked into the neck of her sweater. Something blue. With hints of grey. Something like A RAVENCLAW SCARF.

It’s official. Three was definitely something _very_ wrong with her for her to date my _brother_ , of all people.

I couldn’t believe my luck. It was one thing to hear all about the wizarding world from Mum or Tim, but another to have actual _wizards and witches_ in my front porch. Carrie’s going to love this

“Oh, Finn, what did you do _now_? I hope you haven’t antagonised anyone this quick.”

Finn looked slightly miffed. I noticed they had the same scooped nose with a turned-up tip. That’s when I remembered that they were cousins.

“Tim’s not home right now, but you can step inside and wait for him, if you like.” I said nonchalantly. This could be my chance to have all my questions about the wizarding world. I always pretended to be not really interested in it before because

Because

Because I didn’t want them to know how much I wished I were magical. It was so painful for me at first, and it still is today, to know a secret so wonderful and magical.

And not be part of it.

Finn smiled weakly (I think he was still recovering from the assault). “As charming as a house tour sounds, we don’t have the time. We’re running behind schedule.”

I furrowed my brow, confused. “Schedule?”

Finn’s eyes were dancing with mirth.

“Operation Limothy is a go.”

Lily rolled her eyes behind her cousin’s back and started walking off the porch, Finn trailing behind her. I hastily grabbed my coat and followed them. 

As I stepped off the porch, I turned my head to the left. By instinct, of course. No other reason. Isabella was walking up to Carrie’s house with a large bag. That had dents in places. Like some sort of stiff box. Like a cookie tin. She waved to me and gave me a small smile.

I’m the one who always brings Carrie cookie tins.

I gave a small, stiff smile in return and hurried after Lily and Finn. If Carrie wanted to have a new best friend, that was completely fine with me. People outgrow each other. Like socks. No matter how much you love a pair of socks, there’s no point in keeping them once you’ve outgrown them. They just take up space, collect dust and prevent you from having space to keep new socks.

Even if you know think that you won’t be able to find a pair that you’ll like as much as you like these.

“Honestly, Finn, I have no idea why everyone’s being so dramatic about this. And ‘Limothy’ isn’t catching on. Seriously.”  
  
“Did you or did you not tell your boyfriend in no uncertain terms that you might never see him again? Knowing that said boyfriend lives in the muggle world and would not know if you were dead or alive? Knowing said boyfriend is your cousin’s best friend?”

“I am so confused; what is going on? Why do you guys need _me_? Tim is the one you need to talk to!”

“Tell me, Wisteria Junior, do you know any good designer ice cream restaurants around here?”  
  
“It’s the beginning of autumn! It’s _cold_! No one sells ice cream at this time of year.”

“It’s just the day for some mint ice cream, don’t you think?”

It was 20 degrees outside.

“My _name_ is _Olivia_ , and you will address me as such-”

“Oh, thank Merlin, there _is_ an ice cream shop. And here you were, leading me on to believe muggles were ice-cream deprived!”

Finn strode over to a rickety ice cream cart. Of course. Mr. Quentin sold ice cream every day of the year for the past 40 years, even if it was snowing. His ice cream was legendary. We used to ask him if he had a name for his ice cream cart, and he always gave us a different name each time. The system was simple - pick the flavour, and Mr. Quentin would pick your toppings. Cheap at a price of 40 cents a cone, Timothy and I had many childhood memories associated with Mr. Quentin, aka ‘The Ice Cream Guy.’ He beamed at us as Finn strolled over, Lily hovering warily behind.

“Hello! Welcome, welcome, to Quentin’s Icy Delights! Choose a flavour, I choose your toppings! What can I get you…” Mr. Quentin trailed off, looking a bit confused. He knew almost every kid in town and watched them grow up. Finn stuck out his hand and introduced himself. I hurriedly made up some excuse that he was from Australia (despite his pale complexion and lack of accent) but good-hearted Mr. Quentin didn’t seem to spot anything odd.

“A foreign guest! I see I’ll have much to do to show the magic of Quentin’s ice cream!” Mr. Quentin bent to retrieve something in his cart and I elbowed Finn who had clearly misinterpreted the ‘magic’ part, who whispered angrily to me.

“Are you always this violent or only on weekdays?”

Mr. Quentin straightened up - an ice cream cone in his hand, and a smile on his face. “For Finn, I give you a mint chocolate chip ice cream, with a drizzle of chocolate syrup, a stick of fudge, and a dash of raspberry jam, fresh from Mr. Creighton’s bakery.”

Finn had a huge smile on his face as he accepted the ice cream from Mr. Quentin.

“What’s that you were saying about a bakery?”

I had to physically restrain myself from knocking some sense into his head. I decided it was best to quietly take my ice cream, hazelnut chocolate with almond shavings, a drizzle of caramel and orange zest. Just as I was about to take my first lick, I froze (pun intended). It was a little...odd. I was just thinking about how some hazelnut ice cream would be delicious to have, when Finn first suggested we get ice cream. I looked up at Mr. Quentin just as he was giving Lily her ice cream.

“And for you, my dear, blueberry ice cream with coconut shavings, sour cream, a vanilla-and-peach drizzle with some mint for garnish.”

Mr. Quentin held it out to Lily, smiling expectantly, but faltering when Lily did not reach out to take it. I frowned at it too. Something seemed odd about that particular...flavour? Toppings? Lily stood, transfixed, staring intensely at the ice cream. She suddenly snapped out of her trance and glared at Mr. Quentin, briskly walking away without a word. 

Finn looked just as surprised as I was at this unusual display of rudeness. We hurriedly paid Mr. Quentin (I paid. Finn was extracting a pouch with a lot of jangling of coins so I hurriedly paid him before he started pulling out some weird wizard currency that would make Mr. Quentin even more suspicious.) and rushed to catch up with Lily.

She was still fuming by the time we reached her. Her hands were shoved deep into her pockets and she didn’t slow down or show any signs of stopping. She suddenly stopped, causing Finn to walk into a lamppost (I...I...I-I just...how?). She turned to me and I backed up a few steps, scared she’d bit my head off. But Lily’s too nice to do that sort of thing.

“Do you know a place where the three of us can talk, privately?”

I swallowed and nodded, leading the way. We walked in the park, which was empty, free from prying ears.

As we walked, Lily explained what caused her to go off in a huff while Finn gingerly rubbed his nose.

“That man, Mr. Quicksilver-”

“Mr. Quentin.”

“Yes, him. He’s not a muggle. He’s certainly masquerading as one, although I have no idea why, but I swear on my family’s crest that he is magical in _some_ way.”

Finn raised his eyebrows. “Better not let Aunt Lydia hear you say that.”

I shook my head, thinking that Lily was clearly mistaken. “Mr. Quentin has been in this town since, forever, practically. There’s no way he’s magic.”

“Forever, you say?” There was a sharp gleam in Lily’s eyes. “Forever, almost like, say, 30 years ago?”

“Yeah, actually. My parents said he moved here shortly before my dad’s 16th birthday.”

Lily looked slightly smug. “That’s when the Second Wizarding War was beginning. Lots of people with lower statuses of magic were panicking. The desperate ones went into hiding - lost themselves in Muggle towns, where they thought they couldn’t be found. Some were, some weren’t. I bet Mr. Quentin wasn’t. Still, it’s a cowardly thing to do. I think he’s a muggleborn, otherwise he wouldn’t have done something as crazy as hiding. Maybe he doesn’t know the war’s over…” Lily mused, muttering to herself. I turned to Finn.

“Wait, I don’t understand. How can some people have higher or lower magical status? Isn’t it all the same? You either can do magic, or you can’t!”

Finn smiled sadly. “It’s all hogwash, really. Prejudice, you find it everywhere, magical _and_ muggle. There’s a list of like...thirty, Thirty-two? Families that are pureblood. That means those families have a long history of magic, dating back centuries. That’s why they’re practically royalty. The list wasn’t made until after the First Wizarding War, during which some pureblood families who were a bit...scared... of Lord Voldemort, went into hiding, cutting off all contact with the outside world. Obviously, they didn’t know that the war ended, so they remained in hiding, and weren’t included in the list, which only had twenty-eight families then. But during the Second Wizarding War, some wizards remembered these families and managed to convince them out of hiding, to fight in the war. Some of these families came, some didn’t. After the war, the Minister for Magic, Mrs. Granger-Weasley, updated the list to include all the missing pureblood families.”

My head felt like it was going to explode. There was just so much content to absorb. We reached one of the hilly areas in the park and I sat down on the grassy patch. Lily and Finn followed suit. “So, you guys are Rowens, right? Are you guys pureblood?”

I regretted it as soon as I said it. Finn stopped smiling and looked at me in the eye.

“Does it matter?”

“...no. No, of course not.”

Finn sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. You were just being curious. Yes, we are purebloods. But we’re also one of those families that went into hiding during the First Wizarding War, and we’re not proud of it.”

Lily had rejoined our conversation, and watched Finn and I dejectedly lick our ice cream. I cast my mind around for something to lighten the conversation.

“So, when did your family come out of hiding?”

“During the Second Wizarding War.”

“That’s amazing! You may have shirked during the first war, but you helped in the second!”

Finn laughed bitterly while Lily lowered her eyes to the grass. I didn’t like Finn laughing like that. I preferred him smiling, as annoying as it was.

“I love how optimistic you are. Are all muggles this naive?”

My face fell. I turned away from him and focused on my ice cream. I was insulted. No, it was more than that. Krissy insulted me on an hourly basis. But this one _hurt_. I was starting to think that roaming around with two magical people I didn’t actually know wasn’t exactly the best idea. I suddenly felt a warm hand on my shoulder and grudgingly turned to look.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I guess I’m just not used to talking to someone who’s not familiar with the environment of the wizarding world. You’re right; our family was welcomed back into society with open arms, but some wizards carry grudges. Some felt that we only participated in this war because we thought we had a higher chance of winning.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say.”  
  
“The Rowens are one of the more... _ambitious_ families. Most of our family members are Slytherins and Ravenclaws. Intelligent, resourceful and driven. A deadly combination.”

“...so you’re a Ravenclaw, like Lily?”

Finn shook his head. “Slytherin, like Tim. Speaking of Tim,” Finn suddenly looked around comically, with exaggerated hand gestures, making me snort into my ice cream and making Lily smile. “Where _is_ our Lover Boy?”

I shrugged, and leaned back on my elbows. “No clue. He’s been in these weird fits of moods ever since he came home this year. Going off without telling me, keeping secrets from me...he promised to explain it all one day, but until then, I’m supposed to let him run wild.”

We continued to lick our ice cream in companionable silence until I broke the silence again a little while later.

“So, what were the wars about?”

Finn crunched the last of his cone and brushed his hands off. “Basically the same thing. Some purebloods threw a hissy fit about ‘dirty’ blood, i.e. non-magical genes, in some wizards, and started making outlandish allegations about them being ‘thieves of magic.’ I mean, it wasn’t a big deal until they had a leader to organise their efforts properly. That was Lord Voldemort. But Harry Potter killed him at the end of the last war, so we’re all good now.”

I frowned. And not just because the _duck from earlier that day was eyeing my ice cream with interest._ “What’s ‘dirty blood’?”

“Oh, you know, when one of your parents is a muggle or a half-blood or a muggleborn.”

“What’s a half-blood?”

“A half-blood is someone with, um...well, there’s a lot of addition and such to do. Um...if you have...one pureblood parent and one muggleborn parent, or was it two muggleborn parents? Um-”

“ _Basically_ , if you’re not pureblood or muggleborn, you’re a half-blood.” Lily interrupted him, rolling her eyes.

I nodded. “So, what’s a muggleborn?”

“Muggles who are born with magical powers.”

Stunned silence.

Wait,

_What_?

My heart was beating wildly in my throat and . Finn looked at me apprehensively.

There were people with absolutely zero relations to anyone who was magical who got _magic powers_ just for free?

I had a magical mother.

But only Tim lucked out on the magical genes.

I was getting angry.

“Well, maybe the purebloods had it right. What if muggleborns _were_ stealing magic? That would explain how some people, with magical parents, _don’t_ get powers.”

“Those are called squibs.” Finn was looking alarmed and Lily was anxiously biting her lip. “And it’s not something that they do consciously. That’s just the way that magic works.”

“That’s the way _you_ think magic works. You, and everybody else. What if magic is more tangible than you think? You might not have all the answers, or maybe even the _right_ answers-”

“That _is_ the way magic works, it’s been like that for centuries-”

“At least _muggles_ aren’t as big-headed as you lot. We _admit_ that we don’t know about a lot of things-”

“Wizards have been around for much longer-”

“Wrong! Wizards just started civilisations before muggles-”

“Oh, _I see_ , this isn’t even about _wizards_ or _stealing magic-_ ”

I spluttered. My head was pounding and I was feeling light-headed with anger. Finn looked just as angry.

“What are you _talking_ about, of _course_ this is about magic-”

“NO! IT’S NOT! IT’S ABOUT YOU THROWING A TANTRUM BECAUSE _YOU DON’T HAVE MAGICAL POWERS!_ ”

We were lucky the park was so empty. Looking back, it probably wasn’t the wisest thing to do, yelling about magic when it’s supposed to be kept as a secret.

It was a bit terrifying to see the same guy who christened himself ‘Dr. Cupid’ angrily shouting. At me. I deflated. As soon as Finn said that, I realised he was right. But _he_ wasn’t going to know that. I went back to my ice cream. Finn’s anger was dissipating; the red splotches on his neck were receding. He was glaring at a tree a bit in front of him, like that was whom he had just had a shouting match with. Lily just looked down at her hands and smiled. I have no idea why.

I was still annoyed with Finn and Lily. _They_ didn’t understand what it was like. They paraded around with wands wearing T-shirts that said ‘#MAGICAL’. It just wasn’t fair. Still, it was irrational of me to take my frustration out of them so I took a brave stab at attempting to revive the conversation.

“So, is that what I am? A _squint_?”

Finn looked like he was going to laugh, but just continued looking at the tree.

“Yes. And you should be proud of it.” Finn suddenly sat up and I sunk lower into the grass. “Don’t think of yourself as lesser than any wizard just because you can’t do magic. Arabella Figg, noted for her valuable contributions as a member of the Order of the Phoenix in both wars. Christopher Umbridge, spy for Dumbledore, working against his own sister who denied his existence.” He sunk to his elbows again, talking more to the grass than to me. 

“I won’t deny that squibs have had a cruel history, but it makes it all the more important for them, for _you_ , to be tough.”

I nibbled my cone, slightly embarrassed at myself for throwing a tantrum over something totally unreasonable like a five-year-old. Lily lazily drawled.

“I wouldn’t have thought it possible if I hadn’t seen it with my own two eyes - it _is_ possible to terrify your best friend’s sister the very day you meet her.” 

“I am not terrified! Did you not see me kick him?”

“I’m still feeling it.” muttered Finn. And just like that, all of us were laughing again. The tension in the air dissolved. The three of us were lazily sprawled on the grass when I spoke up again.

“Wait. Lily, how did you realise Mr. Quentin wasn’t a mung-mang-mag-”

“Muggle.” Finn muttered sleepily.

“Yes, that?”

Lily slowly opened her eyes and looked straight ahead.

“He offered me the exact same ice cream flavour that I had... once.”

Lily was obviously going to say something else, but changed her mind at the last minute. Her expression was bitter and sad.

We were all silent for a while. There were still so many holes, so many missing pieces to the story. Each time I learn something new, I feel even more shocked and confused. It was frustrating, in a way. I thought a bit about Lily’s reaction. What was she going to say? It’s just ice cream. Nothing bad could ever come out of ice cream. That was a Fact.

Something stirred in my memory again. Something...vague. Foggy. This year, Tim returned home for Easter. 7th years got to go home for Easter holidays - at least, those who didn’t want to stay in the castle for their last few months. But Tim was missing us AND he brought me all sorts of cool, magical presents, so I let it rest. I got to spend an entire week with him. We did so many fun things together; I didn’t want him to return.

On the evening prior to his departure, Tim and I were having ice cream on the front porch. He had been gone the whole day and only returned half an hour before sunset, armed with goodies from Mr. Quentin’s ice cream cart. I was relieved; it wasn’t like Tim to go off without notice (back then) and I was starting to worry.

“Where were you?” I asked, between bites of mango-peach ice cream. Tim was having a strawberry-tangerine one.

“Places.” Tim said cryptically, smiling at me over his ice cream.

“Did you meet up with some of your friends?” I felt a pang of jealousy. The least he could have done was bring me a long, even if it was only for a few minutes.

Tim nodded, sneezing when he accidentally got some ice cream at the tip of his nose. I laughed as I watched him clean up with a tissue, as he struggled to hold his ice cream and stop it from melting while cleaning his nose.

I’m sure there’s something here about helping your siblings, but that’s for another day.

Tim was trying to save his ice cream so desperately it made me wonder if he couldn’t have it when he was at school.

“Don’t wizards get ice cream?”

“Hm? Oh yes, we do. A branch of Florean Fortescue’s ice cream parlour opened in Hogsmeade three years ago. Well, Florean died ages ago, but his granddaughter runs it.”

I had (still have) no idea what Hogsmeade was, or who Florean Fortescue was.

“And? Is their ice cream supposed to be good?”

Tim looked at me incredulously. Yes, yes, I know, my lack of knowledge about the magical world is appalling, given that I have a magical brother, but that is only because aforementioned brother is such a shit.

“The _best_! I just went there this year with-”

Tim suddenly stopped. It was kind of the same way Lily hesitated before. But he promptly recovered.

“With Lysander. He’s...a new friend I made. Lysander Lopez.”

I snorted. I can’t help it, alliteration in names just cracks me up. Tim knew that too, and he rolled his eyes.

“Say what you want about his name, but he’s a great guy. I mean, he’s usually pretty stiff about rule-breaking, but he and I pulled the biggest prank ever at Hogsmeade earlier in the year. After that, we went to get ice cream. I had raspberry, and Lysander had blueberry.”

Lysander. Hm. I had never heard of him before.

Because he probably doesn’t exist.

Lysander sounds a bit like a made up name. A made up name deriving from another name.

A name a lot like _Lily_.

It didn’t patch up all the holes in the story, but a lot more things made sense now. That was probably why Lily freaked when she saw blueberry ice cream. It reminded her of Tim. And she was terrified that she had completely messed things up between her and Tim.

I was about to say something when we heard a voice. They were too indistinct for me to recognise but Lily slowly sat up, as if in a trance, and let out a small puff of air. 

In the short amount of time I had known her, I gathered that Lily Rowen was a relatively serious girl, with a sarcastic sort of humour, who was very practical. (And she gets bonus points for being a Ravenclaw. Like me.) It seemed difficult to picture her dating my brother, or being ‘in love’ with anyone, really. But when she sat up, I could suddenly see it. There was hope in her eyes. Something that made her look more...alive. 

I turned back and listened carefully, trying to discern the voice. I quickly realised it was Tim who was approaching us. But his walking seemed a bit disjointed. Maybe he was injured?

I realised why the set of footsteps sounded odd as he rounded the corner.

It wasn’t one set of footsteps.

It was two.

And I knew who the other footsteps belonged to.

But it was too late. They had already turned the corner.

It was Tim. Holding hands with another girl. Catherine Wilson.

I felt like vomiting. I wanted to strangle Tim. But it was probably nothing compared to how Lily was feeling. It was possibly the worst thing for Lily to see. For her to come all the way here, only to see Tim with another girl. 

Tim suddenly spotted me. And then Finn. He was squinting in confusion (I keep telling him he needs glasses, but he keeps insisting he’s fine as long as he can see what’s right in front of him). Then, he slowly turned his head to Lily. He looked horrified. He quickly released his hold on Cathy’s hand, who was still very confused.

There’s no other way to describe it. Lily looked heartbroken. She wasn’t even looking at Tim. She was just staring at Tim’s hand that, just a minute ago, was holding Cathy’s.

Cathy smiled at Lily, but faltered when she received no reaction. She kept tugging at Tim’s arm, clearly asking him quite a few things, looking a bit panicked when he wasn’t responding. She let her hand slip from his.

I looked at Finn, who looked helplessly back at me. I realised he was in the dark just like I was before, but not anymore.

I may not have all the pieces, but I found yet another one just then.

Lily and Tim hadn’t broken up officially. And both of them knew it.


	8. Last Train to Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breaking away from Olive's POV, we enter Tim's POV. Majority of the story will be following him now, but we'll eventually return to Olive. Tim's had an awesome farewell party with his friends last night, but now he's totally smashed. And loopy.

**Chapter 7: Last Train to Hogwarts**

_ To Timothy - _

_ I wonder if you felt the sparks the moment you saw her. _

_ -f.r. _

Timothy woke up with his head pounding. The light filtered by his curtains was gentle but it made his head feel like it was going to split in two. He wished he hadn’t drunk so much at the farewell party last night. His thoughts were all fuzzy and it was taking him a while to remember stuff.

Hmm, farewell party. It was fun. Yummy food. Livvy wasn’t there. That was sad. But she was having a fun sleepover at Carrie’s. That was nice. Oh, it’s very noisy downstairs. Maybe a racoon snuck in. That’s a pity; we cleaned the fridge last night. There’s nothing left inside it. Poor Mr. Racoon won’t find anything. Let me go apologise to him.

Tim unsteadily rose from his bead, swaying dangerously, still swaddled in his sheets. He always slept sprawled on his bed and tossed and turned so much it was difficult for him to extract himself from his sheets in the morning. Sometimes, when he was feeling particularly lazy, like this morning, he would just walk around in his sheets until they unravelled themselves.

Tim managed to walk out of his room but faltered at the staircase, seeing all the complicated walking he’d have to do to get down. Instead, he just bent over the railing and yelled as loud as he can, albeit a bit sparsely.

“umm...MR. RACOON! YEs, um...I’m  _ sorry _ , but there’s no food for you here, I know, I’m a terrible person. You can...um...check the...houses next to us. Very much sorry.”

And then Tim collapsed (in a way). He slid down the wall and hugged the banister, resting his head against it. Ah. It was cold. Very soothing. The racquet below had stopped. Tim closed his eyes, enjoying the silence and the extra sleep. Hm. Mr. Racoon was off scavenging somewhere else. Good. Tim didn’t like for the racoon to waste his time. Instead, he heard footsteps. Wow. That was one smart racoon, walking on his hind legs and all. This was probably his Snow White moment. Or was it Cinderella? Eh, most of them can talk to animals.

“Tim?”

Tim hummed in response. He didn’t want to move a muscle; it was so comfortable there. He heard an exasperated sigh. Tim thought that that was one civilised racoon.

“Tim! Don’t you have to catch your train today? To magic school?”

Tim’s eyes flew open in an instant. Apparently, there was no raccoon. It was just Liv, returning from her sleepover with Carrie. Strange. Liv usually never returned before 10 am. Tim just nodded blearily and closed his eyes again. He had plenty of time. He could Apparate there. Liv scoffed disgustedly and Tim grudgingly peeked at her.

“Oh my God, you’re having such a bad hangover. You really didn’t think this through last night, didn’t you? LISTEN TO ME, Tim, it’s  _ 10.45  _ am and your train leaves  _ in 15 minutes _ !”

That got Tim up in an instant. His breathing hitched and he rose unsteadily, but with determination. He hobbled over to his bedroom as best as he could. His vision was a little blurry. He ran straight into his doorframe. His already painful head started throbbing even more. Eyes watering, he spun around a few times and let his sheets fall to the floor. He stumbled into the bathroom and reached for his toothbrush, but dropped and vomited into the dustbin. 

After retching and gagging for a few more minutes, he felt quite better, if he overlooked the sour taste in his mouth. He coughed a bit and pulled out his wand, thinking hard. Once he successfully managed to Vanish his vomit (it took more than a few tries, and Tim was terrified he’d set fire to the bathroom) Tim started feeling a bit better. At least his head was screwed on right (but was it, really?) and managed to heave himself up to the basin to brush his teeth.

Tim managed to get ready in a similar, stumbling fashion, and for once was grateful that he never procrastinated. His trunk and Ernest were waiting for him by the door. Tim stooped down to give Olive a kiss on her forehead (which startled her a bit, because he hadn’t done that since she was 12) and jerkily walked out of the house, tripping over his shoelaces. Olive watched him anxiously from the kitchen window, not entirely sure he was capable of reaching the train station without accident. Once he was outside the house, he stood with his trunk and cage in hand, poised as if waiting for a vehicle. The time was 10.55 am.

Ernest hooted impatiently and ruffled his feathers. Tim snapped out of it and solemnly nodded at Ernest. “That’s right, Ernie, dawdling does us no good.” Then he sharply turned and walked briskly in the steadiest manner that day, full of purpose. Olive relaxed a little, and watched him until he was out of sight.

Tim wasn’t going to  _ walk  _ the whole way to King’s Cross. No, he may have a raging hangover, but he still had it up there (or so he liked to think). He was going to follow his original idea of Apparating there. He vaguely recalled something about three D’s, something about safety precautions, but he couldn’t remember clearly. He was looking for some deserted alley or location where he could Apparate safely. He finally found a place in an old, rundown gas station. He snuck behind the station, pulled out his wand and focused on his destination. 

Hm. King’s Cross. What did it look like again? Oh no. Um, maybe if he could describe it in his head? So, uh, very crowded, bustling crowds, smells like a bakery...Tim remembered how hungry he was since he left without having breakfast. His surroundings started shifting slightly. Tim thought it was because of his hangover but quickly realised it was because he was Apparating. 

He gripped his wand, trunk and cage tighter with sweaty palms. Tim was beginning to feel nauseous again as he went through the unpleasant feeling of Apparition. His stomach still wasn’t strong enough so the second his surroundings slid back into clarity, he hurriedly pulled out one of the sick bags he always brought for Robert and used one of them. He staggered towards a dustbin and disposed of the bag, clearing his throat and trying to ignore the foul taste in his mouth. He squinted at the platform signs, but only the large clock in between them was in focus. The time was 10.58 am.

Tim was starting to panic. But he needed to remain calm, or he would definitely miss the train if he was panicked  _ and  _ in this state of mind. He took some deep reassuring breaths, and his pulse slowed down to normal. He marched over to the wall between platform 9 and 10 and pressed his hand against it. It was solid. Completely solid. Tim’s mouth was dry and his heart was hammering in his chest. This wasn’t good. This was very not good.

Tim looked around in blind panic but couldn’t see anyone who was obviously a Hogwarts student, or anyone who could help him. Tears were forming in his eyes, so the entire station seemed like a blur of colours and sounds. He blinked and hastily wiped his tears away, not refusing to give up until he heard the clock strike 11 himself. He started thinking frantically of what he could do. He remembered reading something about this in  _ The Complete Biography of The Boy Who Lived _ by Luna Lovegood. In Harry Potter’s second year, an elf called Dobby had prevented him and his best friend Ron Weasley from entering the platform by sealing the gateway. Tim’s mind went into overdrive as he started thinking about who would do this to him. He didn’t have any enemies! Not that he knew of. He desperately looked around until his gaze landed upwards. He gave a soft sigh of relief.

He had been pushing against the wall between platform 11 and platform 12. No wonder he couldn’t get on the platform. But he needed to hurry; the time was 10.59 am. Tim strode towards the correct wall and closed his eyes, marvelling sadly that this would be the last time he would ever board the Hogwarts Express. He opened his eyes and saw the empty platform. Even the last-minute stragglers had already boarded the train. There was a girl stepping on when she glanced at Tim. Her eyes widened because the train was starting to move.

Timothy Wisteria was not an athlete. He still isn’t. And he can’t run, no matter what he says. But he tries. Tim sprinted as fast as he could (which really isn’t saying much), hanging on to his possessions for dear life. The girl ducked her head back in the train and Timothy’s heart sank, but he cheered up when she stuck her head out again. There wasn’t anything she could do to stop or slow down the train. Timothy was so close to the door, but was running out of space to run. The platform was only so big. He tossed his trunk and Ernest’s cage into the train (mentally apologising to him) and leapt into the train after them.

As it was said before, Timothy was no great athlete. Not in running, and, sadly, not in jumping either. He catapulted himself off the ground and tried to grab at some sort of handle inside the train to pull himself in. The Hogwarts Express didn’t have handles near the doors because it normally didn’t have people running after them, so Timothy happened to hook his hands around something else. Namely, the girl’s neck.

The door slid shut as Tim landed in the train. He grinned at the girl who was glaring at him peevishly. That was when Tim realised his hands were still hooked around her neck. Tim embarrassedly removed his hands.

“Sorry. Thank you, by the way. You’ve, got, um, a...strong...neck.”

The girl stared at him for a few more seconds. 

“I’m sorry, I-”

“Are you done?”

Tim was flustered. “Er - yes. What exactly am I supposed to be done with?”

The girl rolled her eyes and walked down the corridor. Tim stood near the door for a while longer. His head had shut down, again, so it took him a while to figure out what to do next. Ah, yes, find Finn and Josh and Robert (maybe not all three, just one would do) and yell at them. For letting him drink so much last night, and for then not trying to find him.

It was even harder to walk in the train that was jerking than on solid ground. Tim was worried he’d fall flat on his face, but even more worried that he’d fall into someone else’s compartment. He had already reached his maximum embarrassment quota for the year.

Luckily, a compartment door slid open and four mysterious hands dragged him in. It was very bright in the compartment and Tim had to squint and blink a few times to see. When his vision sharpened, he saw it was Robert and Josh. Josh was stabbing something in his eyes and Robert looked like he was laughing in the background.

“TIMOTHY! CAN...YOU...HEAR...ME?” Josh was yelling really slowly, as if Tim wasn’t particularly bright. Tim swatted away Josh’s hand and realised that it wasn’t the compartment that was so bright. Josh had been peering into his eyes with a flashlight. Robert was shaking with silent laughter.

“We’re glad you’re alright. You were stupid drunk last night.”

Tim squinted and sat up straighter, suddenly remembering his to-do list. He groaned and sunk back into the bench when he started seeing black spots in his vision since he got up too fast. Josh thought he was probably writhing in pain and leaned even closer.

“Oh, Tim, does your hangover hurt very much? Should I ask Rob to get out his  _ A Beginner’s Guide to Healing _ ?” Josh was unmistakably laughing at this point. Tim was thoroughly irritated by his friends. They wouldn’t find it so funny if they had been the ones stumbling around, dizzy, vomiting all morning. Tim glared at them until their laughter subsided. Rob patted Tim’s back comfortingly.

“Don’t worry, we all had bad first hangovers.”

“If I knew hangovers were this bad, I wouldn’t have drunk so much.”

Josh snorted and Rob sniggered. Tim squinted warily at them.

“What  _ now? _ ”

“It’s just...well...you didn’t even  _ drink  _ that much.”

“Lightweight.” More rambunctious laughter.

“H-how much did I...drink?”

“Half a bottle of firewhisky.”

And that set them off again. Tim was tired of all the laughing. His eyelids were drooping. He slid down further and curled up on the seat. He clutched his jacket around him like a blanket. The laughter subsided and someone threw a blanket on him. (Rob, probably.)

“Rest.” It was Rob. “Sleep it off. Believe me, you do not want to ask Madam Pomfrey for a hangover potion the second you set foot in the castle.”   
  
Tim grunted. He was already slipping out of consciousness. The blinds were drawn and everything was wonderfully cosy and comfortable. Ernest hooted peacefully. Tim vaguely noted the compartment door sliding open and shutting as he fell asleep.

Tim woke up to a short rap on the compartment door. He was always a light sleeper. Tim got up as fast as he could without hurting his head and edged the door open. It was the Trolley Witch. She gave him a kind smile. “Anything from the trolley, dear?”

Tim smiled and bought some Pumpkin Pasties for himself, four Chocolate Frogs (he felt much more affable towards his friends now that he was well-rested) and a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans. Rarely anyone ever bought those beans, but they always made for a fun game. Tim thanked the Trolley Witch and paid her. Tim had spent most of his first train ride talking to the Trolley Witch after she had done her rounds. He was too shy to make friends and was so nervous. He was second-guessing his decision to go to Hogwarts. He missed his Mum, Dad, and Olive. The Trolley Witch served as a friendly listening ear and gave him the best advice she could. He never did tell her his name, but never forgot her help. So each year, he always bought something off the trolley, even if he wasn’t hungry. 

Tim munched on his Pumpkin Pasties while he folded his blanket and straightened his clothes. He was still feeling a bit dizzy and he could barely remember how he ended up sleeping in the compartment. He needed someone who was there. He tried to remember who else was there. Right, Rob was there. He definitely remembered his voice.

Tim held onto the doorframe of the compartment as he looked up and down the corridor. It was empty, which meant that his friends were in someone’s compartment. He didn’t want to awkwardly look through every compartment to find them but he was starting to feel irritated and whiny. The afterglow of his nap had worn off and he just wanted to find his friends. As he stood foolishly at the door of his compartment, another compartment door opened. Tim heard laughter and voices as someone carefully stepped out, as if the compartment was really crowded. It was Finn. He exclaimed when he saw Tim.

“There you are, sleepyhead. You slept through the first quarter of the journey. Josh and Rob filled me in. How’s the hangover?” Finn was grinning, but looked shocked when Tim let out a desperate wail and latched onto his right arm and leaned heavily against him, effectively poking Finn in the back with all the goodies he was carrying. Finally. Tim could only go so long in this crazy nightmare without his best friend.

“Well, since you are still courteous even when you have a wicked hangover, you’ve just saved me a trip to the Trolley Witch. Come on, we were hanging out with my cousin and her group of friends.”

Tim blearily lifted his head questioningly.

“Yeah, I know, but we like...bonded, over the summer.”

There were many fishy things about Finn’s statement. It wasn’t that Finn completely ignored his cousin, they just didn’t interact much at Hogwarts because they were in different houses. And, for some reason, Finn hated spending time with his cousin. He always said that he saw enough of her during the holidays for the entire year.

Tim groaned and started to sag again until Finn firmly pulled him up. “Alright, I get it, you’re in no condition to meet a new person.”   
  
Tim mumbled sleepily. “I keep telling you, social anxiety is not hereditary. And it’s my sister who has it. But it’s mild. And she’s getting better, thank you for asking.”

“Right. This mysterious sister of whom you have no photos, never writes to you, definitely exists. Are you sure you didn’t hallucinate her?”

“ _ Yes _ . And she’s the one who gave me that handkerchief.”   
  


“Yeah, like that proves anything. You could’ve embroidered it yourself.”

“Can I go back to sleep now?”

“If you do that, you’ll be awake the entire night and won’t let  _ me  _ sleep, so no. Besides, then you’d also be so sleepy the next day during lessons.”

“I’ll consume all the chocolate I can get my hands on and survive on a sugar high.”   
  
“ _ No. _ No, absolutely not. Remember what happened the last time you had a sugar high?” Finn looked at Tim peculiarly. “Your hangover must be worse than I thought. You never suggest these sorts of things. How about you just quietly sit in the compartment while the rest of us talk quietly?”

Tim was silent for a while, thinking hard.

“Can I bring my blanket?”   
  
“Deal.”

They were about to turn back to the compartment when another compartment door opened. Josh stepped out, looking flushed. Finn gave an exclamation of surprise. Tim groaned and let Finn do all the talking.

“There you are! Where were you? Why are you so red?”   
  
“I am?” Josh looked a bit jittery. “Oh, well, I...was reading a letter. A private letter.”   
  
“A racy letter? Wait - did you get a girlfriend? A boyfriend?”   
  
“Wha-no! It was just a letter from...my mother.”   
  
“Your mother wrote you a letter? After you spent your entire holidays with her?”

“...yes. She misses me very much.”   
  
Finn clearly didn’t fully believe him but just nodded.

“Alright, then - but you know you can still talk to us about absolutely anything, right?”

Tim was feeling exhausted even though he hadn’t even stood for so long and Finn was supporting some of his weight and started shoving Finn towards the door. He loved Josh, he did, but maybe he loved him a little less when he had such a raging hangover.

“Hey - what’s up with Tim?”   
  
“HangOVER!” Finn managed to yell before he was shoved into the compartment. Tim ignored everyone’s inquisitive looks and wrapped himself up to his eyes with his blanket and snuggled in the window seat of the left bench, closing his eyes. He trusted Finn to do any necessary introductions or explanations.

“So, um, everyone, this is Tim. Who is currently having a really bad hangover because he is a complete lightweight at drinking. Tim, this is...Lily, her friends, blah blah blah, he doesn’t even have his eyes open. I’m sorry, he’s normally much more polite.”   
  
There was a laugh and a loud, brisk voice spoke, quite similar to Finn’s.

“I’ll say. How much did he drink?”

“Half a bottle of firewhisky.”

The first voice guffawed and a more demure voice spoke up.

“Well, that stuff  _ is  _ kind of strong.”

“Hm, maybe, but it shouldn’t make him this much of a bumbling idiot.”

The conversation turned away from him and became a bit quieter, so Tim was easily able to block it out. Occasionally, someone would read out an interesting piece from The Quibbler (only Ravenclaws had the patience to give the ludicrous ideas of The Quibbler the light of day). That someone had a slightly high-pitched voice. Tim drifted in and out of consciousness, enjoying the quiet buzz of activity. 

After a while, when Tim realised how silent the compartment was, he pried his eyes open. There was just a girl seated on the seat closest to the door on the bench opposite him, wearing Ravenclaw robes. She was looking out of the window and started when Tim shifted. Tim recognised her as the girl he had jumped onto when boarding the train. Horror started coiling at the base of his stomach and carefully watched her reaction. She just gave him a very small smile. She hadn’t recognised him because Tim was coiled in his blanket. Well, as long as he kept quiet, he could get away with this.

“Hi. It’s Tim, right?”

Great. Now he  _ had  _ to talk.

“Uh, yeah. That’s me. Tim.” Tim spoke gruffly in a deep voice. The girl looked a bit startled.

She nodded and looked away. Tim looked away too. The awkwardness was palpable.

“The others went to change into their robes.”

Tim nodded stiffly and desperately combed through his head for some topic of discussion, and continued talking in that same, gruff voice.

“So...how long have you been friends with Lily?”

The girl seemed to take a while to process the question. She just stared at Tim for a few minutes, her face neutral, but somehow seeming happier than when she smiled at him.

“Since fourth year, when I had to tutor Lily in Transfiguration.”

She paused for a while. “I’m Ivy, by the way.”

“Oh.” Tim felt a bit foolish, but grateful, as he remembered how rude he was when he had entered the compartment. “Sorry. It was just, I was really...out of it.”

“I know. I saw.” Ivy smiled at him, but not unkindly. They looked up when the compartment door slid open. It was a girl with wide-set eyes and a round face, also wearing Ravenclaw robes. Tim recognised her as the first girl who had spoken when he entered the compartment. She tossed Tim a bag.

“Finn’s sent me to wake you up and tell you to change into your robes since we’re reaching Hogwarts soon. Man, I can’t believe you missed almost the entire experience of your last trip to Hogwarts.” As the girl was talking, Ivy slipped out of the compartment behind the girl, giving him a small wave as she left. Tim just stared back, still tightly coiled like a caterpillar in his blanket. The girl turned around and started saying something, but stopped when she saw there was no one there.

“Where did Lily go?”

“Huh? Oh, she wasn’t here when I woke up. It was just Ivy here.”

“...oh. Right. I keep mixing the two of them up. Anyways, Timothy-”

“Just Tim will do.”

“-we’re reaching soon, so better change quickly.” And she left.

Tim rose shakily and pulled his robes over his head, stumbling a bit. He was glad he didn’t have to drag his stuff up. He felt chilly without his blanket so he wore his coat and wrapped his scarf around his mouth and nose. His head felt worse somehow, if that was even possible.

Tim staggered off the train and tried to locate Finn or any of his other dorm mates. He found Rob, but Josh and Finn were already in a carriage with Lily and her other friend, who wasn’t Ivy. Finn spotted Tim just as the carriage started off and waved and mouthed something. Tim just shook his head confusedly. He could barely lip-read when he was of sound mind and body (Finn  _ knew  _ that), let alone when he was suffering from a hangover.

Tim took a carriage with Rob, Ivy, and a Gryffindor bloke. Tim was about to climb onto his seat when he saw a butterfly resting on his seat. It fluttered away a second later, but Tim had already seen it. His vision swam and he staggered down the steps, tripping over his own feet and landing on the ground in an undignified manner.

The Gryffindor boy chuckled and Rob alighted to help Tim up. Tim was shivering now too, on top of his limbs feeling like dead weights. Rob whispered a few comforting words to him and gave him a small pat before turning to chat with Ivy and the Gryffindor guy. Tim sort of tuned them out until they reached the castle. When they reached, the Gryffindor boy smiled comfortingly at Tim and Ivy waved at him as they alighted. That made Tim feel a bit better.

Rob helped Tim walk to the Great Hall, despite him insisting that he was fine. Rob just had to steady Tim every few steps and change his direction slightly at times to prevent him from trampling any of the first-years. Tim sank into his seat gratefully, basking in the warmth of the Great Hall. Finn looked guiltily at him, but Tim was in such a good mood he just smiled breezily at him, all resentful feelings towards Finn evaporated.

Headmistress McGonagall cleared her throat and started her start-of-year speech. Tim didn’t really remember hearing much of it afterwards, but got the gist of it. Welcome back...much to learn...be careful...magic equality...wonderful experience...clap clap clap. Tim looked lazily at the newly-sorted first year Slytherins enjoying the feast. They all seemed a bit of a blur to him; he couldn’t really focus hsi vision properly. 

He squinted at the first-year sitting next to him, who smiled anxiously at him. Later on, Tim realised it was probably quite intimidating to be a first-year that is receiving a lot of uncalled for attention from a seventh-year. Tim giggled (Rob was getting quite concerned about Tim’s odd behaviour, Finn was just enjoying himself) because it was Olivia sitting next to him! His little sister was here at Hogwarts! Tim hugged Liv tightly, who squirmed a bit and went limp after a while. Ah, just like Olive to hate hugs. 

Tim let go and smiled happily at his friends. Rob was frowning and Finn looked just as happy as he was. Tim’s mind was really fuzzy and he felt like he was experiencing some drug-induced euphoria. Probably because Liv was finally here, at Hogwarts. TIm opened his mouth to share the good news, albeit a bit haltingly.

“...GUYS! It’s...OlIVE! HERE! At h-h-hOGWASH! No, wait, that doesn’t sound right...hoGGARSH! YES!”

That was the final straw for them. Finn started cackling and pounding Josh’s shoulder who also looked highly amused. Professor McGonagall seemed to notice something was off at their part of the table, but put it down to high spirits caused by the magnificent feast. Robert stood up and firmly dragged Tim, forcing him to walk. 

Tim could still hear Finn laughing himself sick as he and Rob left the Great Hall, and was delighted that Finn shared his jubilation that Olive was here. He chatted animatedly with Rob about all sorts of things. When Rob didn’t really respond, he started trying to talk to the suits of armour they passed. Their visors clattered as they were tickled pink by Tim, who was disgruntledly being pulled away from them by Rob. They finally reached their destination, Tim still beaming with a sweaty and exhausted Rob.

“Ah, Poppy! How lovely to see you!” Tim strode towards Madam Pomfrey while Rob sagged into a chair by one of the hospital beds, making a racquet in the quiet Hospital Wing with its gleaming bedpans.

“Mr. Wisteria? Mr. Johnson? What is the meaning of this? Why aren’t you at the feast? Don’t tell me you’ve gotten yourselves into a scrape before the term has even started!” Madam Pomfrey bustled around, talking sternly, pulling vials of potions out of Tim’s hands as he marvelled at her large cabinets.

Madam Pomfrey knew Tim and his friends pretty well. Professor Slughorn made Tim take some mandatory Quidditch training sessions with Madam Hooch in fifth year (after being sorely disappointed that Tim didn’t have any of his mother’s natural Quidditch talent) which failed abysmally, and more often than not ended with him landing in the Hospital Wing, where Tim got to know Madam Pomfrey, who also knew his mother well (she wasn’t the most careful person).

Now, Madam Pomfrey shoved Tim onto a hospital bed, giving him some empty vials to play with while questioning Rob. Rob was reluctant to tell her that it was because of a hangover, but did when he saw Tim starting to squeeze his fingers into the tiny mouths of the vials. Madam Pomfrey was a bit annoyed, but was more focused on helping Tim.

“Odd.” Madam Pomfrey said, shining her wandlight in Tim’s eyes. “I’ve never seen a student suffer from a hangover this badly. He’s been like this the entire train ride?”

“Er, no, not exactly. He slept most of it, and had these crazy mood swings.”

Madam Pomfrey stood up and took the vials from Tim, fetching a vial of purple potion. “His hangover is mild. He’s mainly suffering from a small concussion.”

“Wow.” Rob breathed, impressed. He looked up to Madam Pomfrey to no end, aspiring to become a healer himself one day. Madam Pomfrey had a bit of a soft spot for him, and let him watch her treat some of the patients in the Hospital Wing since last year. “Isn’t that, like, a muggle thing?”

Madam Pomfrey started measuring out the right volume of potion to give Tim. “Well, yes, but some muggle ailments are common to all people, magical or not. Concussions. The flu. Chicken pox, although dragon pox is more common in wizards. Healers have to take a written test about some muggle illnesses so that they can recognise them.”

Tim giggled when Madam Pomfrey handed him a smaller vial. “What’s this? Why is it...purple?”   
  
Tim reached out to touch the vial and Madam Pomfrey slapped his hand away. She decided to give it to Rob instead. “Make him take about a third of this potion every night before he sleeps, for the next three nights.”   
  
“He’s not staying here?”

“Merlin, no, the school year’s starting. That includes Quidditch tryouts. And I’ll be seeing your lot more than you think.”

“Aw, Poppy, you worry too much. We’ll be really careful. It’s our last year, and I doubt we’d want to spend much of it in the Hospital Wing. Well, it does have its own fun, but-”

“That’s not what I mean. Mandrakes will sing before you start acting careful. It’s your N.E.W.Ts year. Remember how frequently Mr. Nott turned up here during your fifth year?”

“Well, yeah, but we’ve already had our O.W.L.s. We know what to expect this time. High stress levels, lots of studying, etc. etc.”

Madam Pomfrey looked amused. “Alright then. If I see you or any of your friends hanging around, I’ll be sure to ask Mr. Filch to chase you out.”

Tim started laughing hysterically, reminding Madam Pomfrey he was there. “Couple days of bed rest, make sure he doesn’t skip any meals, he needs all the nutrition he can get. Wait a moment and I’ll write him a letter to excuse him from lessons for the rest of the week.”

Rob started protesting but Madam Pomfrey shushed him.

“He can recover during the weekend! Why does  _ Tim  _ get to have a holiday extension?”

“Because he has a mild concussion. And it’s only for three days. Now, off with you, before you get mobbed by everyone else. The feast is almost over.”

Rob grudgingly pulled Tim’s arm around his shoulders and started marching him, taking a shortcut to avoid the mobs of students. Tim seemed to be coming down from his euphoric high and was starting to act very sleepy. The good news was this made it much easier to get him to walk. The bad news was this made him really clingy. Rob was grateful that the Slytherin dormitories were in the dungeons. He couldn’t bear to drag Tim up Hogwarts’ endless staircases.

Rob was panting by the time they reached their dorm. Tim had completely given up walking once they entered the Common room and just clung to Rob and let him do all the work. The rest of the boys were already there, unpacking. Finn grinned when he saw Rob and Tim and helped him manhandle Tim onto his bed. Josh threw some blankets and a quilt on Tim while Rob explained what happened.

Only Finn wasn’t completely horrified that Tim got to skip the first three days of school. “I mean, if it’s that serious, he needs the rest. Besides, would you really rather babysit him for three days, making sure he doesn’t do anything absolutely crazy?” Finn reasoned, pulling off Tim’s socks, coat and scarf.

“ _ You  _ always do crazy things.”

“I said  _ absolutely  _ crazy. Dammit, Josh, you completely missed the point.” Finn grinned and continued pulling things out of his trunk. Tim was really cosy but wanted to chat with his friends before sleeping. He felt much calmer now that he knew what was wrong with him. He was already starting to regret sleeping through the train ride to Hogwarts, but he really needed to rest; he could barely open his eyes. Finn tossed two boxes onto Finn’s bed. Tim extracted his arms from beneath the covers to look at them closer.

“Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans? Hey, didn’t I give these to you on the train? Why didn’t you guys eat them on the train?”

“Finn wouldn’t have had fun if we ate them without you.” Josh said slyly.

“That is completely false. If anything, it would be because your facial expressions are one-of-a-kind, Tim.”

Tim playfully punched Finn, who ducked, and instead hit Josh. Josh gave a high-pitched scream and dropped what he was holding. Everyone started laughing, even Tim, even though it made his head pound. Josh grinned sheepishly, and picked up the object. It was a poster.

“Mum wanted to do something special for you guys, since it’s our last year together. Dad wanted to hire a professional painter but Mum put her foot down, and made this.”

Josh unrolled the poster and the boys stared at it in awe. It was a portrait of the four of them, based on a photograph they had taken right after they had finished their OWLs. Tim had forgotten how short they all were. Finn waved his wand and it stuck to the wall.

“Permanent sticking charm.” Finn explained cheerfully. “James Potter taught it to me.”

Tim raised his head. “Do you really think that was the best idea? Permanently sticking that poster?”

“Oh, right.” Rob sat up interestedly, ignoring Tim. “You spent the holidays with OJ, didn’t you?”

There were so many students at Hogwarts named James, that everyone called James Potter II Original James, or OJ. Finn came up with it when he tried out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, along with like five other Jameses. It was so physically painful to watch the captain struggle to explain which James he was referring to that Finn just yelled at him to call him Original James. James didn’t like it at first (“Do you know what OJ means in America?  _ Orange juice _ .” “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I  _ like  _ orange juice.”) but it caught on, and James got used to it.

“The Potters are so much fun. I just wish James knew it.” Finn sighed, climbing into his bed. “He keeps going on about becoming a professional Quidditch player. Mr. Potter wanted to, too, once upon a time.”

“No way! Why didn’t he?”

“Well, I think the war got in the way. After that, I think he just became focused on being an Auror. He’s really irritated that James wants to be a Quidditch player. I think he thinks it’s shallow, and James is mad because he thinks that his dad is stopping him from living his dream just because he couldn’t.”

“Ouch.”

“I think we all went through that phase. He’ll see sense before he graduates.”

“Are you sure? He’s already a sixth-year.”

“...maybe. We’ll get Finn to give him a sermon before we graduate.”

Finn threw a pillow at Josh, who groaned and exaggeratedly rubbed his chest.

“Sorry, your friendly _ advice _ .”

There was a bit of silence in the dorm as everyone shuffled in their sheets. Tim spoke up.

“Can you believe this is our last year? We’re walking these halls for the last time.”

“Unless we come back as professors.”

“So we’re still pretending anyone would have the courage to return to teach with McGonagall as headmistress? McGonagall, who always remembers everyone’s track record?”

Everyone laughed, and the spirit in the dormitory lifted.

There was another period of silence, until Finn gave an exaggerated groan.

“Rob, enough with the cucumbers! They were funny in first year, now it’s just pathetic!”

“It’s tradition! You can’t challenge tradition in our last year!”

Rob always put slices of cucumber on his eyes while he slept during his first night at Hogwarts, insisting that it helped him rest better and that it prepared him for the first day of school.

“Rob,” Josh had said, in their fifth year. “Slices of squash couldn’t prepare you for the first day of OWLs year.”

Tim grinned to himself. It felt good to be back at Hogwarts. To see his friends, Madam Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall.

It felt good to be home.


	9. The Magic of Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim's forced to stay in bed; things are bound to go wrong. Josh recounts how he started the school band, and made a...friend, of this adorable Hufflepuff boy. But things aren't always so smooth-sailing, and trouble soon follows.

**Chapter 8: The Magic of Music**

_ To Timothy - _

_ Love is an excellent motivator, _

_ And fear an abhorrent deterrent. _

_ But you probably already know that, don't you? _

_ -f.r. _

Tim didn't really remember much of his first two days at school, except that it was spent mostly in his bed. His raging headache became much better after the first night itself and wanted to go down to the Great Hall to have breakfast with everyone else, but Rob dismissed the idea after Tim broke his nose getting out of bed. He wasn't even tangled in his sheets or anything.

So Tim had to watch the rest of his dorm head down for breakfast while he was miserably bundled in bed. No, he wasn't in pain because of his nose (Finn fixed it for him), but it had triggered a spike of pain in his head. He rested his throbbing head and drifted back to sleep. As it turns out, concussions made people very sleepy and tired.

Tim didn't do much after that. Just sat in bed, being a lump. He opened his eyes after a while but quickly shut them again when he saw tiny little figurines made of topaz climbing his bed. He started nodding and eventually drifted off. He didn't really fight the drowsiness because there was nothing to do while being awake, and Madam Pomfrey had said that rest was what cured a concussion the fastest - not potions or spells.

"Oh, you know, there's always a bunch of people who try, of course." Rob had dropped by the dorm to check up on Timothy in between lessons. Not that Timothy didn't appreciate the gesture, but he was cranky and disoriented from being woken up from his nap. Then he started to feel bile rise up in his throat again, even though Tim felt like there was nothing left in his stomach to vomit out. Luckily, Rob placed a bucket in front of Tim just in time.

Rob was treating Tim's well-being as being of utmost importance, ever since Madam Pomfrey washed her hands of him. He seemed to be treating it like a test. Rob was acting so desperately for Madam Pomfrey's approval that Tim didn't have the heart to tell him it was probably because Madam Pomfrey wanted one less student to take care of, in her age. Rob would be an excellent healer; he was aceing Double Potions breezily. But sometimes, he would get a bit carried away and act a bit more pompously than you'd like your healer to be. But he really did have a heart of gold, underneath all his theatrical flair.

"Like Saint Mungo Bonham. He tried to alter the Pepperup Potion. Added an extra bicorn horn to, you know, give a little more zip, accelerate the healing process."

Tim lifted his head blearily, sensing Rob's meaningful pause. Rob did like to go on about himself sometimes, but he wasn't one of those people who could talk endlessly, whether or not people were listening to them. He needed an active audience. Tim decided to humour him, since he had nothing better to do, and he wanted to be a good friend. That, and the fact that he was practically bed-ridden for the next few days and had to depend on Rob for whatever he needed, aside from Finn. But Finn would be busy with the first session of Quidditch tryouts on Friday and Tim didn't like to bother him.

"And what happened when he added the extra...bezoars?"

Rob sighed. Tim didn't particularly like potions, and often tuned out of conversations involving complex theories about them. And it was a known fact that he would always mention bezoars when he would be called back to the conversation. Even if they hadn't been mentioned at all.

"Bicorn horn. Pay attention. It added extra zip, alright. His victim's - I mean patient's, ears boiled and fell off."

"...and people still go to the hospital run by that lunatic?"

"Hey, watch it. This was in his early days, when he was experimenting. Before his days of brilliance. DO you realise how heavy the foot traffic is in St. Mungos? All of those wizards and witches couldn't be wrong or misguided. And he's up there with Merlin in my book, so show the guy some respect."

Tim nodded haphazardly, having momentarily forgotten how Rob worshipped the Mungo guy. He accidentally knocked over the hideous lamp on Rob's nightstand, but Rob lunged and managed to save it. Tim had gotten it for Rob as a gag gift for his seventeenth birthday. Tim had asked Rob what was one of the major challenges he faced and Rob had replied that it was reading at night, since Finn was an early and light sleeper who needed complete darkness and always extinguished their shared lantern before nine p.m. Rob still kept it, proudly displaying it on his tiny nightstand, despite Tim's insistence that he keep it away. It didn't even work at Hogwarts, since it needed electricity.

"Oh, I have Transfiguration in a minute. See you in a bit. Try and get some rest, don't get out of bed, bribe a first-year to get you any stuff you need," Rob began pulling on his robes, so the rest of his instructions were muffled so Tim couldn't hear them until he pulled the neck of his robes over his head.

"...about all of this 'ethics' and 'morale.' Clear?"

"Crystal." Needless to say, Tim was enjoying himself. Rob looked at him suspiciously; Tim was in too much of a good mood for a guy in bed with a concussion, even if it meant skipping out on school. But Rob was already running late so he contented himself by giving Tim a stern look and then scrambling out the door, Transfiguration tomes in tow.

Timothy settled back in his bed, hoping to squeeze in a little more rest before someone else barged into the dorm. He tried to imagine he was back home, not in the dorm. As wonderful as Hogwarts was, Tim never liked the Slytherin dormitories. They were damp with mildew, although the common room was richly supplied with richly embroidered and cosy cushions and rugs. The dorms had an eerie green light from the lake and the merpeople looked much more ferocious whenever Tim was alone in the dorm. He didn't mind it as much when his friends were there, and maybe it was because of the concussion, or because it was just the first day back, but Tim was starting to feel uneasy.

During the summer before his Fourth year, Tim got to travel on a Muggle airplane for the very first time, during a family vacation to visit his maternal grandparents. They were magical, but Tim's mother wasn't so sure about how she felt transporting his father by magical means, since he was completely muggle. He couldn't exactly see Portkeys and Tim's mother thought his father might be more susceptible to splinching if she took him on a Side-Along Apparition.

He found it quite interesting, all the security features put in place, the safety instructions on the plane. But after that, all the excitement fizzled out of him. It was a night flight, so people were pulling eye masks over their eyes and switching off their reading lights. Tim had been secretly applauding himself in the boarding area for having the foresight to rest beforehand when he saw many passengers nodding off in the boarding area. Tim's mother was sleeping, his father was doing a crossword puzzle, and Olive was seizing the opportunity of zero parental supervision to watch as many movies as she could.

"You're going to tire yourself out before we get there, you know."

Olive just vaguely nodded in his direction, eyes still fixed on the glowing screen. After a while, when the sugar rush from the brownie she had earlier died down, Olive just slumped in her blankets and fell asleep. Tim unplugged her headphones and switched off the movie for her. All the windows were drawn down, but there wouldn't have been any light if they were open anyway.

Tim always felt panicky in dark places. His mother always joked that he had inherited his father's claustrophobia, but something went wrong. He was starting to feel antsy so he stood up and decided to walk to the galley at the back of the plane where there was some light. When he stood up, Tim immediately felt as if he had made a bad decision. He felt dizzy and found it hard to balance in the narrow aisle. It was all he could do to not fall onto someone as he struggled to put one foot in front of the other.

He finally reached the galley, and blinked a few times to adjust his eyes to the bright yellow light. There was a steward there. He smiled at Tim and Tim, who had been on the verge of tears just a few moments ago, felt loads better.

"Hello. What can I get you?"

Tim was starting to feel a bit foolish. He didn't want to sound pathetic by admitting that he had just wanted some light. The steward looked closely at him.

"You look a bit stressed. First time flying?"

Tim nodded, feeling like an idiot. He couldn't seem to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. The steward smiled at him again and returned to his book and cup of coffee. After watching the steward for a while, Tim felt a bit more at ease, and continued the conversation.

"It's just, I have a major exam next year. After the Summer holidays."

The steward set his mug down, looking interested.

"That's got to put a bit of damper on things. Still, think of it as you partying this time next year."

Tim nodded, and a comfortable silence followed.

"So...what's it like, spending so much time in airplanes?"

The steward smiled ruefully. "Well, it isn't my first choice of occupation, but it's nice. It's comfortable, safe. Things get exciting sometimes, when we have turbulence. But that quickly passes. It's mostly boring, really."

"How long have you been a steward?"

"Oh, about twenty years. I had a much more exciting job before that, but I switched because...I became a father."

"Congratulations."

"Yeah. She's all grown up now, she and her siblings."

"That's great. Why don't you go back to your old job?"

"That...would be a little difficult. I've been away for ages, and I haven't exactly been staying in shape-"

"What was your old job?"

"I...handled...large, animals. Hostile, aggressive ones."

"...that seems a bit odd."

"It was - still is - my passion. They're just grossly misunderstood by the- a lot of people."

"Was it dangerous?"

"Yeah, definitely." He put down his book and rolled up his left sleeve.

"See this scar? A nasty one gave it to me."

Tim was shocked. These had to be some really grumpy animals. The scar extended all the way from his wrist to his elbow, and was thick with tissue. It had healed completely, but wasn't exactly the nicest thing to look at.

"A nasty what, exactly?"

"I...forgot." The steward was looking rather sheepish. He hurriedly pulled down his sleeve and picked up his coffee. Tim could feel that he would be dismissed soon and was growing frustrated, wracking his brain for an animal that could be that dangerous. It hit him just as the steward stood up to show Tim back to his seat.

"DRAGONS!" Tim hadn't meant to shout, but luckily, all the people in the back row were fast asleep. He knew he was right from how white the steward had become. He quickly shushed him and sat down again.

"Yes, dragons. You're magical too?"

"Half-blood. Maybe quarter."

The steward nodded thoughtfully and silence blanketed them once again.

"This must seem so terribly dull, after working with dragons."

"Well, it was at first, but I got used to it. And I've been out of the field for really long. I mean, I have a few friends that tell me that I've still got it, but...it's been too long. My reflexes aren't what they used to be. Besides, I didn't have a family back then."

"Don't you resent them? I mean, you sound really passionate about these dragons. Is it really worth it, giving up on your dream?"

The steward smiled slightly. It was gentle, and he spoke without a trace of venom in his voice.

"Some people search their whole lives for home. I feel lucky to have found mine."

Tim suddenly bolted upright in his bed, realising that he had drifted off. It wasn't exactly a pleasant memory - his cheeks were damp and his shirt was sticking to his back with sweat. Tim waited a few moments, trying to slow down his breathing and desperately willing his heart rate to become normal again, as it had become erratic in his sleep. When the steady thumping of his heart returned, Tim began to feel a bit calmer and was just contemplating sleeping some more when a loud, out-of-tune note made him start again.

Timothy groaned and dragged himself out of bed. It was lunchtime, and the first day of school. He should have remembered. He wrapped his dressing gown around himself and teased his hair to look a bit more presentable, before trudging downstairs to the Common Room.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

In their fourth year, Josh had become obsessed with the idea of Hogwarts having a school band. He first took it up with Professor McGonagall, who expressed her concerns about how it might not really hit off with the rest of the Hogwarts population not unkindly.

Josh was nothing if not sly, so he got his father to purchase an entire brass ensemble. It wasn't easy either - first, Josh had to do all sorts of research before deciding what kind of music he wanted to play in the band. He studied magical and muggle music history (and was hypnotised by Call Me Maybe for weeks)until finally deciding that he would harvest the next Beethoven and chose to start a brass ensemble.

He was particularly smug when the ensemble arrived - via an entire flock of owls, no less - and Professor McGonagall just primly watched them wreck havoc among the students. His mother had also sent a letter along, oozing about how proud she was that her son was developing his 'artistic side' and was being 'ravaged by pursuits of the creative kind.'

But he still needed to find a venue, which Josh was pretty relaxed about. They had Herbology first thing that morning. After class, Josh had asked Professor Longbottom if he could use one of the Greenhouses for the auditions, but the professor politely declined.

"But why?"

"Joshua, look, I'm all for supporting...whatever this is, but it's just not safe, not with all the plants there. And I can't supervise; I have a staff meeting."

"We'll be really careful. We'll even move some of the plants to the back."

"No no no, that won't be necessary," said Professor Longbottom, looking quite worried now. "It's not the plants I'm concerned about, anyway."

Josh wanted to pursue the topic further but the professor spoke with a note of finality in his voice.

"I am terribly sorry, Mr. Nott, but you'll have to find another place. But until you learn to feed your Chinese Chomping Cabbage properly, I'm afraid my mind wouldn't be at ease, letting you use the Greenhouses unsupervised."

"Your mind doesn't have to be at ease!"

Professor Longbottom just looked at him wearily. Apparently, that had bene the wrong thing to say.

"Goodbye, Mr Nott."

Tim and the others cheered him up, and Josh was determined to ask every teacher in the school if he had to, to find a venue. Unfortunately, Josh did pretty much ask every teacher in the school. And they all refused point-blank. Professor Flitwick did so a little more kindly, but all of them had similar reasons - they didn't want any accidents to happen.

Josh was so frustrated, he was practically pulling out his hair. He was exhausted; running to and fro looking for teachers during the short gap between lessons to change classrooms, and was feeling utterly defeated. He had retired to the library during lunch, taking Professor Longbottom's gentle criticism to heart, to pour over some books about the proper handling of a Chinese Chomping Cabbage behind some bookshelves.

He mindlessly flipped through the pages, eyes glazed over, not really taking in anything. He felt hot and sticky from running around so much and was beginning to feel shame creep up on him. He probably looked like an idiot (he certainly felt like one), having a pathetic plan that crashed before it even started. And his pride was still smarting from Professor Longbottom's jibe about his Herbology skills, or lack thereof.

He vaguely felt like he was being watched and raised his eyes. There was a quick rustling of pages and a few thumps. Curious, Josh leaned a bit out of his seat and looked out of his hiding places. The library was empty except for a few overly-zealous first-years and stressed fifth-years. And this one fourth-year Hufflepuff, who was sitting in his direct line of vision, visible in between books. He was holding a book that he was supposedly upside down. Josh could see a strip of his forehead above the book which was very pink and his limp fringe was sticking to his head.

Josh took his book and carried it over to the table the Hufflepuff was sitting on. The Hufflepuff's feet started tapping in a nervous frenzy as he felt Josh draw closer. Josh let his book drop on the table with an audible thump, earning him a scowl from a fifth-year Gryffindor. The Hufflepuff nervously peeked over his book with huge amber eyes. For some reason, it made Josh smile like crazy.

"Hi." The Hufflepuff's stare turned a bit accusatory.

"So...is it alright, if I, um, sit here? It's just that," Josh was warming up a bit, because the Hufflepuff was starting to seem mildly curious. "I've always been complete rubbish at Herbology, I don't even know why I took it, I mean, maybe I thought I'd get better at it in a few years, but Professor Longbottom just won't get off my back about my Chomping Chinese Lettuce (huge exaggeration, the professor had barely mentioned it) so...here I am."

Josh looked at him expectedly, being just as quiet as the Hufflepuff had been during his speech. There was a few more minutes of silence. Josh was starting to think this was a bad idea. Or that he broke the Hufflepuff. Seriously, he wasn't even blinking or anything. Finally, he blinked, and Josh started.

"Chomping Chinese Cabbage." He said it oddly. Haltingly. Josh slowly nodded.

"Yeah. And, the book's really boring. And musty. Hey, you wouldn't know-"

"I do, actually." The Hufflepuff was still observing him intently. It was starting to unnerve Josh. "But it might take a while. And lunch is almost over."

"Right. Hey, are you free today at like, seven? I really wouldn't want to impose, but my Herbology grade-"

"Yeah, sure. 7 works for me. I'll meet you here?" The Hufflepuff seemed to be a man of few words, but of very well-chosen ones. Josh nodded, relieved. The Hufflepuff lowered his book and smiled, for the first time. Josh felt like time had frozen, and that his heart was suddenly really loud. Josh snapped out of it, and realised the Hufflepuff had already left. He started gathering his things, thinking of setting off for Transfiguration, before realising that there was still twenty minutes of lunch left.

Josh was looking forward to his meeting with the Hufflepuff. His friends kept teasing him about how he didn't even know his name. But Josh knew it would be hard to forget those amber eyes. He kept convincing himself, and his friends, that it was just a display of inter-house harmony. Nothing more.

Josh arrived early, leisurely browsing the shelves for some helpful books. Seven came, and went, and Josh was starting to feel a little let down. He couldn't have forgotten, could he? Luckily, the Hufflepuff showed up fifteen past seven, with a bulging bag in tow.

"I'm s-so sorry, I-I-I-I j-just got caught up in, um, some-thing." He was stuttering and looking so anxious, Josh's misgivings about him instantly evaporated. He also sounded different - he wasn't talking in that same, restrained manner as he was during lunch. Josh stuck out his hand and introduced himself.

"I'm Elliot." Said the boy, shaking his hand. His voice was gradually becoming softer like before. Josh just brushed that aside, thinking it was because he was so flustered from being late.

Elliot sat down and removed his huge satchel, and began extracting all sorts of material from there - notes, books, even small vials of potion. Josh just watched on in awe and gratitude. Elliot was talking in that same, halting manner, as he emptied the bag.

"I was thinking, that, it would be, better, for you to form a strong, foundation for Herbology. That way, you'll be able to tackle, anything, in the curriculum. He looked up and smiled, watching Josh rifle through the heaps of parchment.

It was a very long, boring, arduous study session. Elliot must have wanted to spend time with his friends, Josh definitely wanted to work on finding a venue for the band, and yet here they were. But Elliot, as Josh found out, could make even seemingly boring information seem interesting, and was hilarious too. They decided to call it a day an hour later.

"That...was actually amazing. I had no idea...I could ever understand Herbology so much. I just hope I can remember all of this."

Elliot pushed a stack of books towards Josh. "Keep it."

"You can't be serious. The amount of time you took making such detailed notes, I just...couldn't."

"Don't worry, I have copies up in my dorm. You can keep this. All of this."

Josh felt like he was about to cry over how sweet Elliot was being. He just nodded thankfully and began gathering up everything.

"So…" Elliot w=said while watching Josh scramble to collect all the loose sheets of parchment. "You looked a bit...tense, earlier today. Is something, wrong?"

"Kind of. I wanted to start a school band. I even just got all the instruments from my dad today."

"Ah, yes. I remember. Breakfast was very...interesting."

"Yeah, well, they're pretty much useless until I can find a place to hold auditions. I was thinking about the Room of Requirement, but that got destroyed in the Second Wizarding War but I might try anyway."

"Easy. Just hold it in the Slytherin Common Room."

Josh started laughing while Elliot watched on calmly. His laughter died after a few minutes, seeing that Elliot was still looking so grave.

"You're...serious? Look, no one's going to come unless they want to be executed. No one's going to willingly set foot in our Common Room. Besides, some of our parents did some pretty terrible stuff to some of their families. I'm not exactly rushing to remind them."

Elliot just shrugged. "So don't pick them."

"...what?"

"I mean, think about it. Even if they could play really well, would you really want a student who might be harbouring ill-will towards you because of something that happened ages ago?"

"It wasn't ages ago, and they've done so pretty terrible stuff-"

"Couldn't be more terrible than my parents."

"What are you talking about?"

"Elliot Lestrange. I'm a Lestrange."

The library was quite empty, and deathly quiet. Josh and Elliot looked at each other. Josh could tell Elliot was willing him to continue the conversation. Josh wanted to keep his mouth shut because he felt, he knew, he was going to say something he'd regret. Eventually, Elliot's stare became too intense so Josh had to relent.

"Well...I've not met most of your family...but...I think I can safely say that...you're the best of the lot."

The tension in Elliot's face melted, and he smiled, almost gratefully, making the features of his face look softer and gentler again. Josh mulled over what Elliot had said while packing the rest of the stuff.

"You know...I reckon you're right."

"...I am?"

"I'm going to make a slogan. Picture this, 'The Hogwarts Ensemble: Leave your prejudices at the door.'"

"I like it."

Josh smiled.

"Could be catchier, though."

Josh rolled his eyes and threw a stray quill at Elliot.

And that was how Josh ended up returning to his dorm with his arms full of books and a picked venue in mind. His friends kept bombarding him with questions. Timothy wanted to know who he was with for so long, Finn kept making suggestive assumptions and Robert was impressed by the neat handwriting of the notes. ("But it's not better than mine. I mean, I have the best handwriting I've ever seen. Still, it's alright."

"It was just a friend. Oh, how tortuous!" Finn sighed dramatically, when Josh finally started talking.

Tim wanted to know if it was a boy or a girl.

"A boy. Hufflepuff. Elliot."

Finn froze midway in flopping himself on his bed. "Elliot Lestrange?"

Josh saw Finn and Tim exchange looks and felt irritated. He went back to emptying the bag. They weren't there that evening. They didn't see how kind, and smart, and amazing Elliot was, and how he was nothing like any of the Lestranges. If they had met him, they would know how wrong they were. Just like how Josh knew, in his bones, that there was much more to Elliot than what meets the eye. Rob was munching a Chocolate Frog thoughtfully.

"Wait. Something doesn't add up. Bellatrix Lestrange couldn't be his mother. She died during the Second Wizarding War-"

"Cheers to that." said Finn, solemnly pretending to raise a glass.

"-and if Elliot was born before that, he'd have to be at least twenty years old."

"Maybe Rodolphus Lestrange remarried."

There was a thoughtful silence in the dormitory, interspersed with the clink of vials or the rustling of parchment.. The idea of remarrying seemed so...humane, normal. Rodolphus Lestrange, humane and normal? Few weirder things have happened. Josh interrupted the silence.

"Whoever his parents are, Elliot's not like that. He's...really nice."

"I can't believe it. I won't believe it. Joshy is in love!" cried Finn, draped in his blanket like a cape. The comfortable bubble of talk and laughter resumed in the dorm.

It wasn't until much later, when everyone else was asleep, that Josh realised that Elliot didn't speak haltingly with him.

Timothy stumbled downstairs, wincing at the occasional out-of-tune note. There was this Ravenclaw that was determinedly trying to get it right, but was downright awful. Josh was trying to gently talk to her, but kept getting interrupted.

"Look, Henry-"

"Henrietta."

"Right. Er," Josh awkwardly tried to reach around her and pry her fingers off the tuba, but she gripped it even tighter and glared at him. Josh extracted his arms sheepishly, and then began speaking firmly.

"Henrietta, believe me when I say few students have shown half as much enthusiasm as you have in joining the school band. But the fact remains-"

Henrietta, sensing where the argument was going, lifted the tuba and began playing out-of-tune notes as loudly as she could. Josh wasn't daunted in the least and spoke louder and louder until he was almost yelling to be heard.

"That you don't have the team spirit or the time to commit TO THIS BAND SO I SUGGEST YOU LOOK ELSEWHERE IF YOU NEED TO TAKE ON ANOTHER EXTRA-CURRICULAR ACTIVITY!"

Henrietta put down the tuba and made a strangled noise, like an angry cat, and walked away huffily as Tim approached Josh gingerly. Josh smiled weakly at Tim.

"How are auditions going?"

Josh groaned, and buried his head in his hands. "I don't know if Patricia and Blake and everyone else also had this much trouble at auditions, or if it's just that our year's particularly untalented."

After Josh had started the band, he felt too bashful (as a lil smol fourth year) to be the one judging subsequent auditions, so a vote was passed among the existing members to pick the committee who should. The committee almost always comprised sixth and seventh years, mainly because they had such a limited amount of time left in the band. And at the end of last year, Josh was voted as part of the committee. It gave him something to look forward to when school resumed, over the holidays, but Josh could feel a migraine building up now.

Josh lifted his hands and looked at Tim, who was starting to feel amused, beseechingly.

"It's no use. I've had one Gryffindor who got his mouth piece lodged in his throat, three Ravenclaws, all of which didn't even know how to hold a saxophone, and one Hufflepuff who bent the French Horn." Josh vaguely gestured to an instrument in front of him.

"...isn't that what a french horn normally looks like?"

"It was originally a Cornet."

"Oh. So, how many people were...good?"

"No one. Kate's trying to comfort Jordan who sort of...froze after the Hufflepuff and the French Horn incident. He's not crying or anything, but he just...shut down, I guess?"

The Common Room door, that was propped open with a book for auditionees to enter, swung open. Josh feebly raised his head, his heart rising even less.

The person drew into the light and Timothy saw it was a Hufflepuff. Tim smiled kindly at him while Josh looked flabbergasted, and hurriedly stood up, still gaping at the Hufflepuff. Tim thought that that was the person who bent the Cornet.

"Was it you who bent the French Horn?" Tim tried to speak sternly but the Hufflepuff seemed so clueless and it always exhausted him to be purposefully unpleasant, that it came out as friendly instead.

"That...French Horn? It looks, alright, to me. Well, except the mouth. The mouth's usually...bigger." The Hufflepuff spoke nervously, and anxiously watched Josh.

"It was a Cornet, originally." Timothy explained, and then turned to Josh. Suppressing the urge to shake him in front of the Hufflepuff, he spoke firmly. "Josh, you have another person who wants to audition for the band. The band. The one that you said had absolutely no successful auditionees this year."

Maybe that was what snapped Josh out of it, but he suddenly unfroze, and beamed.

"Elliot!"

The Hufflepuff brightened considerably at this. He had clearly been worried that Josh wouldn't recognise him. Timothy whipped his head back to look closer at the Hufflepuff. He looked so...unassuming.

"Elliot Lestrange?" Tim asked, still hardly believing his eyes. Elliot visibly deflated and Josh threw Tim a withering look. Tim shrugged innocently back. Elliot looked at Josh neutrally.

"So...you've told everyone, all about me, have you? Am I this, this hilarious joke to all Slytherins?"

"No! No, I haven't told anyone."

Elliot raised his eyebrows.

"Just my friends."

"We really don't look down on you, we swear." Tim interjected desperately, wanting to make amends for his insensitive reaction. Unfortunately, Tim realised it was exactly the wrong thing to say when Elliot's expression darkened further.

"No! No, I didn't mean that," Tim was starting to wish he had stayed in the dorm, where he couldn't cause any trouble. Maybe Madam Pomfrey was right about his tendency to cause mischief.

Josh looked awkward and Tim was feeling worse by the minute. He was probably giving such a wrong first impression of what Josh's friends, and by extension Josh, was really like. Really, the first time he had to meet the one person Josh liked, he just had to have a concussion.

"He's...not really well right now. He's got a mild concussion, so-"

"YES! I HAVE A MILD CONCUSSION!" said Tim excitedly, causing Elliot to back away a few steps. Elliot still looked dubious so Tim repeated his statement in a much more serious and sober tone.

Elliot gave Tim a friendly pat on the shoulder, wishing him a speedy recovery, before turning to Josh. Josh looked neutral but from the way Josh was chewing the inside of his cheek, Tim could tell he was feeling nervous. When Elliot looked at him, Josh straightened up and cleared his throat.

"So, Elliot. Are you here to audition? For the school band?"

Josh felt like kicking himself. Of course he was here to audition for the school band; random Hufflepuffs didn't just come waltzing into the Slytherin Common room to suit their whimsy. Josh wondered if Elliot had been musically inclined since...well, since they met in their fourth year, and if that Elliot had only helped him find a venue because of that.

Still, there was the Herbology help that he wasn't obliged to give. It cheered Josh up to think that Elliot had consciously decided to help Josh. As a friend.

Elliot hesitated (he did that a lot). "No. I mean, yes. Well, not exactly. It's just...I found this on the door, and I don't think you guys, or any of the Slytherins, put it there." Elliot handed a piece of paper to Josh. Even Tim leaned in, interested.

There was a message written. Spelt using cut-outs from newspapers. Tim sucked in a shallow breath in shock, while Josh just stared stonily at it, his jaw clenched. He had been expecting something like this for years now, but had assumed it wouldn't happen, since it didn't happen.

Until now.

"WELCOME TO THE HOME OF ARSONISTS AND MURDERERS."


	10. Precipice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Suicidal mentions. Stop reading after the bolded word and just skip to the next chapter.
> 
> Let's take a break from Tim's drama, and zero in at another part of the castle - the Ravenclaw girls' dormitory. Guess no one's having a great start to the year.

**Chapter 9: Precipice**

_ For Timothy - _

_ If you knew the things you wish you did, _

_ You wouldn’t have the things you had. _

_ And I’m not sure if that would be a good, or a bad thing. _

_ -f.r. _

People say that there’s no cure for an ache like a good night’s sleep. Well, thought Lily, in the early dawn’s gloom, those people don’t know shit about aches. They’ve probably never  _ had  _ a real ache. Or maybe what she had wasn’t an ache. Maybe it was...a problem, that needs to be rectified. 

Or maybe it’s because she didn’t have a good night’s sleep, like every other night, for the past two months. Lily went to bed with the rest of her friends, yet was the only one in her dorm who greeted dawn. Lily wondered how long it would take for the image of the royal blue bed hangings bathed in a soft orange glow to be imprinted in her mind. She closed her eyes, picturing it perfectly, every detail embedded in her memory.

She kept her eyes closed; she liked viewing the world through her other senses. It was one of her...odder, hobbies, but Lily enjoyed it. It was refreshing to piece together information instead of getting an onslaught on sensory data that sight provided.

Some memories from the previous day surfaced. Ugh, that absolutely horrid carriage ride with Todd. Finn’s absolutely childish antics, although they were amusing. That funny boy with the familiar looking eyes.

She heard a soft rustling of sheets and turned her head in that direction. Two soft thuds. Someone stepping into slippers, then. And only one girl in her dorm insisted on wearing fuzzy slippers every morning. Lily felt cold air tickling her face, and felt her mattress sink slightly.

She cracked open an eye and, as she expected, there was Ivy peering down on her. She smiled brightly at Lily, rubbing her eyes. Ivy was  _ such  _ a morning person, it was almost sickening. She was way too cheerful, and sometimes too loud, in the mornings.

Ivy continued beaming and leaned over to Lily’s ear to whisper to her.

“You fell asleep!”

Lily smiled weakly. Yeah, sure. Let’s go with that. Lily tried to look as excited as Ivy was, but she couldn’t really focus on the present moment. Time had been a lot like that for the past few months. Vague, drifting pieces that didn’t really seem to fit well together. Oddly disjointed. Like a fractured memory.

Lily tried to pay attention to what Ivy was saying, but Ivy had pulled her bed hangings wide open and the sunlight was directly in her eyes. Squinting at her, Lily just nodded vaguely, waiting for her to get all of it out.

“...and it was so crazy! But, like, he seemed pretty serious. Finn was saying something about a hangover, but like, how drunk was he to mess up so badly, right?”

Lily looked at Ivy pleadingly, who sighed and raised her hands in surrender. Lily had explained to Ivy multiple times that she did not process anything before breakfast. She needed time to wake up.

That time seemed almost like a foggy dream. Now, Lily just couldn’t get her mind to switch off. So it didn’t need time to switch on. It was pretty much running the whole day. And night. And it’s hard to sleep when your mind is constantly working, the same way it would be hard to fall asleep during a rollercoaster ride.

Lily regretted being so blunt with Ivy (although she hadn’t really done much) because she had actually liked the warmth Ivy had brought. And also because Ivy really cared about her, and fretted over her continuously, even though she really didn’t need to. They had shared a room at the Rowens’ villa last summer, like every summer before, and it didn’t take long for Ivy to catch on to her insomnia.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

Lily made Ivy swear not to tell her family, so that they wouldn’t stop her from returning to Hogwarts. It was only by begging within an inch of her life and insisting she was fine did Lily manage to prevent her parents from writing to McGonagall just last week. She was tired of being treated like she was something delicate. She felt  _ fine _ . More than fine, if anything. What she needed was an escape, and Hogwarts provided just that.

Of course, that didn’t stop Ivy from running over to Melissa, who came barging into her room one morning, armed with pastries, closely followed by a not-a-least-bit-apologetic Ivy.

“Oh, Lily!” cried Melissa breathlessly, pulling her into a tight hug. “I had absolutely no idea!”

Lily was annoyed at Ivy for running to Katie because she was supposed to spend the last month of the holidays with her sister, but instead was summoned here. Lily was also annoyed with Ivy for yanking her curtains wide open the minute she entered. It made her room too bright and cheerful. And Ivy was smiling because she knew.

Still, Lily was feeling better than she had in a long time. Her mind was sort of...slowing down. It was running out of things to obsess over, which made Lily feel a great deal calmer. And, as much as Lily would insist that her friends were annoying or overbearing, she felt touched to be remembered and cared for by them.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” said Melissa dismissively. “She wasn’t exactly jumping for joy to see me. Besides, we spent a day together, and that was sort of enough.”

Ivy nodded, starting on the pastries that Melissa had bought. Lily opened her mouth to protest but decided that Ivy needed it more than her so she decided to remain quiet. Melissa’s town had this amazing baker who made delicious pastries which she bought for her friends and such when she dropped by. She mainly stayed with her uncle during the holidays.

“So, what are we doing?” Melissa asked, making herself comfortable on the edge of Lily’s bed. Lily untangled her fingers from her hair, which was a mess since she had just woken up (and because she hadn’t exactly brushed it for like...a week) and just looked at Melissa confusedly.

“What are we  _ doing _ ? I mean, I’m mourning-”

“Don’t. Believe me, he isn’t worth it.” Melissa leaned in conspiratorially. “I’m talking about  _ revenge _ .”

Ivy straightened up and wiped some jam from her mouth, while Lily just groaned and sunk further down in her pillows. Melissa and Ivy both started talking at once.

“Lily, you have to  _ do  _ something about this-”

“Are you kidding me? I only put up with you to get to this moment-”

“You can’t hide from him  _ forever _ -”

“Listened to you, let you cry even though that bastard deserves  _ none  _ of your tears-”

“Just think how much worse it would be if the next time you see him is at Hogwarts-”

“I say we just beat him up and finish it off.”

Lily rested her head on her pillow and closed her eyes, letting them vent whatever they had to say about her situation, their voices lulling her to sleep. She might have drifted off, or was maybe just walking among her thoughts, when her right arm was tugged sharply.

“OW! Ivy, you could have dislocated my arm!”

“Yeah, right. That was the idea.” Ivy scrutinised her as Lily took her time rubbing her shoulder and throwing injured looks, just to stall her response.

“Done playing the victim?”

“Y’know, you’re awfully chill for someone who almost just landed her best friend in St. Mungos.”

“Please, spare me the pity party. Clyde would have fixed it for you in an instant.”

“‘Pity party’?”

“...never mind.”

Lily smoothed her sheets, stalling for more time, keeping her face relatively neutral. When she was done, she raised her head and looked at her friends. One, extremely concerned face, and one bloodthirsty one.

“We’re not doing anything.”

Ivy groaned and started hitting her head with one of Lily’s cushions. Melissa tried to talk sense into Lily, but her speech being interspersed with groans and thumps from Ivy made it a little less convincing.

“Lily,” Melissa began, completely serious now. “If this happened to one of  _ us _ , you’d be destroying any hope the guilty party had of a future-”

“Melissa,” Lily said, mimicking Melissa’s tone. “This is so different.”

Melissa snorted derisively.

“He didn’t actually  _ do  _ anything.”

Even Ivy had stopped her dramatics. Melissa was just stock-still.

“That’s a lie and you know it, Lily Rowen.”

“No, it’s really not. He was very polite about it-”

“Oh, please, can we stop pretending like we don’t know that he broke up with Lily to run off with that  _ skank _ Hilda!”

But from the way Lily suddenly went rigid, and how Melissa turned skittish and highly strung, Ivy realised she was wrong. Melissa definitely knew, she was with her when she found out, but Lily didn’t know. And Melissa  _ knew  _ Lily didn’t know and was obviously keeping it a secret from her.

But Ivy had been in the dark about that. And from Melissa’s apologetic expression and Lily’s ashen face, Ivy was starting to very much regret letting her mouth run away with her.

“I mean…” Ivy stammered uselessly; the damage was done. “It was just...a rumour, it’s probably not true. I mean, Todd would  _ never do _ that to you. He loves-loved-whatever, you too much.”

The tension in Lily’s shoulders melted, but Ivy wasn’t sure if this was a good or bad sign. Lily sunk into the cavity in her pillows again, eyes half-lidded, face looking like it was set in stone. Melissa and Ivy glanced at each other worriedly. Melissa gingerly brushed against Lily’s hand.

That seemed to pull Lily out of her reverie. She looked at them surprisedly, as if she had forgotten them being here for the past ten minutes. There was pity in Melissa’s eyes, and sorrow in Ivy’s.

Frustration started to build up in Lily. All of her happiness to see her friends evaporated. She was convinced that of all people, her  _ friends _ wouldn’t show her sympathy, that they wouldn’t treat Lily differently, like the rest of her family was.

“Please leave.” Lily croaked out, white with anger. Her words were polite, but her tone had such bitter undertones that Ivy and Melissa hastened to the door.

Ivy exited the room, but Melissa gave Lily one last look, as if she would suddenly change her mind and invite them back in. Seconds passed. Melissa watching Lily, Lily staring back stonily as ever. Melissa, defeated, shut the door.

Her friends had left, and had taken her semblance of morning peace with them. Lily dug the heels of her palms into her eyes. Her mind was running at a million miles per hour, digging up old and bitter memories, imagining thousands of possible scenarios. Todd leaving her for Hilda...it was her worst nightmare come alive.

Her mind had plenty to think about now.

Seconds, or hours, could have passed; Lily didn’t know. All of a sudden, she was pulled from her mind. Lily listened to the deathly silence in her room that had seemed tranquil just some time ago. She heard a long series of rapid knocking, and realised someone must have been at her door for a while. 

Lily wanted to get up and answer the door, just to prove that she was strong, but she wasn’t really feeling strong at that moment, so she just hoarsely invited them in. She was burning with shame for acting so feeble and weak when she had declared that she would rise above this just yesterday.

It could have been her mother, to see how she was doing. It could have been Melissa, to apologise. Hell, it could have even been  _ Ivy _ , to sneak another pastry.

But it was Finn.

Looking back, Lily thought it was obvious. Of course it would be Finn. But then again, she didn’t really know him then.

“Phineas?” Finn winced. “No need for that. It’s just Finn. Only mum calls me that. And only when I’ve royally screwed up.”

Lily pulled the covers up to her chin. “Just like me, then.”

Finn watched Lily for a while, leaning in the doorway. She supposed it would be polite to invite him inside, but Lily was still smarting from Todd’s actions, so she didn’t particularly feel like being polite. Finn didn’t seem too bothered by this, though. He just smiled breezily at her.

“We’re going bowling later.”

Lily raised her eyebrows. “Going  _ where _ ?”

“It’s this muggle thing. Really fun. I mean, if you’re good at it. You try to throw these really heavy bowling balls in a straight line to knock down some pins at the end. We thought it’d be fun if you came.”

Lily seemed mildly interested in it. “Who’s coming?”

“Oh, loads of people. Me, Josh, Melissa, Ivy, OJ...ok, maybe not that many people.”

Lily still hesitated. “He’s not coming.” Finn said, as if reading Lily’s mind. His smile melted and he looked serious.

“For what it’s worth, Josh and I aren’t talking to him anymore. I mean, I couldn’t believe it at first, but I suppose I sort of...expected that he’d do something like this one day.”

Lily just hugged the covers even tighter. Finn sighed and walked in, sitting down in an armchair near her bed. “We’re all here to support you. I don’t know about Aunt Lydia, but us, your  _ friends _ , won’t talk about it if you don’t want to. But if you do want to talk about it, we’re all ready to listen. No one looks down at you, or blames you.”

Lily whispered something, and then smothered her face into her pillow.

“...Lily?”

Lily unstuck her face from her pillow and tried to calm down a bit. “I said, they should.”

Finn was lost. “Who should? And should what?”

“Blame me. I did a terrible thing.”

Finn smiled slightly, thinking he knew where the conversation was going. “Lily, we went over this. It’s not your fault.”

“Oh, but it is.” said Lily breathlessly, in a rush. She didn’t know why, but something had been pulling her back from telling Ivy and Melissa this. Her closest friends. They wouldn’t judge her.

Still, as close as her friends were, family seemed more...comforting. It wasn’t like Lily didn’t have siblings - she had an older brother and sister. But sometimes it felt like they forgot what it was like to be seventeen, or to have your first heartbreak.

But Finn...Finn never judged anyone. Ever. At school, at home - zilch. And he was being so kind, and for the first time, Lily felt like there was someone who truly  _ understood _ .

“I...said something. Something horrible. And...mean,” Lily was cringing as she talked. She felt so embarrassed to admit something so cruel in front of Finn. She didn’t want him to look down at her, but she knew he would, after he heard this.

“I could tell he was about to...you know. And I was mad, and I didn’t want him to have the upper hand, and I just…” Lily squeezed her eyes shut, ignoring the tears that slipped out. It was the first time she had cried since the incident. Lily took a deep breath and opened her eyes, looking at Finn in the eye for the first time. And even then, she didn’t see disgust or contempt from him.

“I told him that I wouldn’t have expected anything more from a person like him. From a person that...that wasn’t even wanted by his own mother.”

Lily felt awful. She had re-lived so many memories of yesterday, except for that one, because it was too painful. Lily hated herself for saying that, and she hated herself for not having the courage to approach him again to apologise.

“That wasn’t...a very  _ nice _ thing to say, but it was an emotionally stressful moment for you. And you’re really sorry about it. So, I don’t think it makes you a bad person. And no one else would think that, because that is quite out-of-character for you. And maybe, one day, if you’re feeling brave enough, you might just apologise to him for that.”

Lily hated how simple Finn was making it. How he was just downplaying her insidious remark. Couldn’t he see how despicable she was, to have said such a thing?

“It’s not  _ just  _ Todd.” said Lily, irritated. “I have these-these malicious and  _ spiteful  _ thoughts about so many people,  _ every day _ . About  _ Ivy _ or  _ Melissa _ or...even you!” Finn looked so taken aback, which satisfied Lily.

“Yes; do you know how annoying it is to see you sometimes? Always being so  _ understanding _ and  _ kind _ \- it revolts me.” Lily spoke triumphantly, looking at Finn who just looked impassive. As silence followed her words, LIly realised what she had said, and looked away in shame. It wasn’t even completely true - she just found it annoying at times, but it didn’t make her hate him.

“Sorry.” Lily whispered. “I...I didn’t mean that. I just got carried away. My  _ point _ is-” she looked at Finn again “-I’m not as innocent as everyone makes me out to be, and that’s what frustrates me. It’s not  _ fair  _ how everyone thinks I’m definitely the good guy…”

“And that Todd is the clear-cut antagonist.” Finn finished for her. Lily looked at Finn in surprise, but didn’t correct him. Because it was true. She was starting to feel guilty about all the hate Todd must be getting when half of it isn’t truly his fault.

But Lily didn’t  _ want _ to feel sorry for Todd, because she hated him now, and feeling sorry for him would be like admitting she still had feelings for him, which she definitely didn’t. It was supposed to be a clean, friendly, mutual breakup. And Lily just  _ had  _ to ruin everything with that rogue comment.

Fin sat up. “Look, we’re not doing much to Todd, except for maybe acting a little frostily towards him. So don’t run away with some idea of us robbing him or something, okay?”

And that was what made Lily smile for the first time in forty-eight hours. Not pastries, not her best friends, but some lame excuse of a joke from her cousin. Maybe she was just feeling more cheerful after venting about what she really wanted to say, to let out some of the thoughts that had been endlessly buzzing around in her head for days.

Lily went bowling with them that day. She wasn’t very good at it, but Ivy was downright abysmal. Melissa got the hang of it pretty quickly since she had a bit of prior experience. It was fun, they all laughed till their stomachs hurt (Ivy wasn’t very good at letting  _ go  _ of the bowling ball), and for one glorious hour, Lily forgot all about Todd and the things that were making her head hurt so much.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

Lily thought about yesterday, and how much worse it could have turned out if she hadn’t had that one outing with her friends. True, it just looked like a bunch of kids having fun and goofing off, when it was really a bunch of wizards trying to make sense of the oddities of muggle games. 

Only Melissa really knew how to play it and the rules and such. At times she would just stare fixedly at one of them trying to do something so obviously wrong. Such as Finn kicking the ball instead of rolling it.

“Trust me, Lisa, I know what I’m doing. I’ve seen muggles do this before.”

“Yeah, in  _ football _ .”

“...isn’t that an extension for bowling? Like, for the pros?”

It was just a simple outing, but it drastically improved Lily’s mood for the rest of the holidays. As much as she wanted to return to Hogwarts, she realised the break was just what she needed. To take a break from the craziness of it all. To heal.

Which was why she was much braver when she realised  _ Todd  _ was sitting in the carriage with her. At least he had the decency to be embarrassed. There were just two other Slytherin boys sitting with them who she didn’t really know.

“Er, hi.” Todd said awkwardly. Lily could tell he wished he had double checked before climbing in, but he was too busy smothering his laughter at that poor Slytherin boy who stumbled off. Lily had seen him in the train; he must have been feeling awful.

“Hi. Where’s Hilda?” Lily wasn’t this abrasive or blunt before, but she was still stung by Todd running to Hilda  _ immediately  _ after they broke up. Or that he might have even broken up with her  _ because  _ of Hilda. There was no need to beat around the bush. Besides, she didn’t want to put up with some poor pity act from Todd.

Todd’s stunned look told her he was planning to do just that. He floundered for a minute before composing himself. “Hilda’s...good. She’s wanted to take another carriage with her friends.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “She keeps hovering over me, it’s insane. She’s not  _ chill  _ like you.” Todd leaned back, winking at you, smiling like the two of them were sharing some hilarious inside joke.

They weren’t. At least, as far as Lily knew.

She just smiled tightly, dearly wishing to thump him, or to even warn Hilda about him. But she’d just take it as some twisted form of revenge and ignore her. A few minutes of the journey continued in silence while Lily tried to muster the courage to talk to Todd.

“Look. Todd.”

Todd smiled widely at her, showing every one of his even, white teeth. The smile that once made Lily’s heart flutter left her feeling oddly...disgusted. She continued speaking but Todd interrupted her.

“I get it, Lils. I really do. And it’s alright, it really is.” Todd placed one of his hands over Lily’s clasped ones. Todd most  _ definitely _ didn’t know what she was talking about. When Lily was voiced this out, Todd just chuckled and removed his hands, blushing slightly.

“Now now, Lily, it’s not good to live in denial. But it’s alright,” Todd smiled kindly at her, like she was a confused child. “I won’t tell anyone. Besides, who could blame you?”

Todd spent the next few minutes looking around at the trees like he was seeing them for the first time, turning his head this way and that. It was only when Lily noticed the subtle clenching of his jaw did she realise what Todd was thinking.

“Oh, no.” Lily suppressed the urge to laugh. “I don’t mean - Todd, you can’t  _ possibly  _ think that I’m still in  _ love _ with you!”

Todd stopped his preening, looking slightly miffed. The bundled Slytherin boy was deep asleep and the other boy had the grace to look like he had temporarily gone deaf. But Todd didn’t seem ready to accept Lily’s words. His tone became infuriatingly patient.

“Lily, there’s no shame in still having a...a little crush. I mean, I would, too...if I were you. But don’t worry, it’ll be our little secret.”

All of Lily’s apprehension evaporated. She couldn’t remember what she was so worried about. This was  _ Todd _ , for god’s sake. Todd, who was always such a lightweight. Lily wondered if Todd had always been so narcissistic. She didn’t have the time or patience to baby Todd anymore, or to humour his childish whims. That was Hilda’s job now.

“Todd.” Lily spoke in a firm tone, determined to leave him no room for excuses of misunderstanding. “I just wanted to apologise for what I said, during the summer. It wasn’t right of me, and it was completely unacceptable. And  _ you _ don’t need to worry. I’m not obsessing over you.”

Todd’s smile faltered a bit, sitting frozen on his face. The carriage jolted to a halt at the castle, and the smile slipped right off his face. Lily watched him for a while, heart thumping in her chest, barely listening to the Slytherin boy trying to wake his friend up. Todd stared back just as intensely, his jaw set.

Lily was the first to break eye contact. She smiled politely at Todd and that Slytherin boy, waving at them as she alighted. She desperately hoped Todd wouldn’t notice how shaky her legs had become.

Todd never really got angry. He’d get annoyed, or irritated, but he was quite easy-going. Lily hadn’t seen him so...livid. Ever. It was ridiculous, but in that short span of time, Lily felt like Todd might attack her. And as much as she kept pushing that thought away, even now, it kept haunting her.

It made her imagine a very different set of outcomes had the two Slytherin boys not been in that carriage.

Lily’s head was still buzzing with thoughts as she walked into the Great Hall, everything around her seeming muffled, and was only dragged back to reality when a hand shot out to stop her. The noise in the Great Hall suddenly returned, at full volume. It was Ivy. Melissa smiled anxiously at her, and Ivy looked mutinous.

Lily smiled reassuringly at them, sitting down next to Ivy. She raised a hand to brush some hair away from her face, and realised that her hand was shaking. She quickly hid it below the table, resting it on her knee, before Ivy would see it. She already looked so suspicious of her. Melissa leaned in and started the conversation first.

“So, did you talk to him?”

“Of course she talked to him! And look at her, white as a ghost. What did he say?” Ivy burst out vehemently. She had promised to be neutral towards Todd during the summer but she had evidently forgotten that promise.

Lily took a sip of her ice-cold pumpkin juice to steady herself. She placed the goblet down, deciding to play dumb.

“Talk to who?” She asked airily, as if she was completely composed.

“Theodore Macmillian. And drop the whole I’m-in-the-dark act, we saw him walk in right after you.”

Melissa joined in. “He looked murderous.”

“ _ I’m  _ ready to murder him.”

“Ivy, you promised. Back off. I apologised. That’s all that matters.”

“That doesn’t give him a get-out-of-jail-free card to talk shit about you!”

Professor McGonagall couldn’t have chosen a better time to address the Hogwarts population. Lily put a finger to her lips and pointed at the professor like she wanted to listen to her. Lily paid an unusual amount of attention to the Headmistress’ speech this year, ignoring Ivy’s hissed questions.

When the polite applause following the speech died down. Ivy opened her mouth to continue her tirade.

“Ivy, please, don’t.”

“You can’t keep running away from this.” Ivy said, but her tone was much less harsher.

“I’m not. Just...not tonight, ‘kay?”

When Ivy still looked unhappy, Melissa stepped in.

  
“Not tonight, Ivy.”

Ivy finally relented, nibbling at her food. There was an awkward tension between the three girls, one that they’ve never had at a Start-of-the-Year feast. It felt odd to be so stiff when everyone around them was filled with such merriment. None of the girls ate much.

They didn’t say a word until they reached their dorm. Lily had just unpacked her trunk. Melissa was still brushing her teeth and Ivy was in bed, with her bed hangings drawn. Lily thought Ivy was asleep so she climbed into bed quietly.

“Lils?” Ivy drew back her bed hanging, and Lily saw that Ivy was far from asleep; she was sitting with her legs crossed. Meditating, then. Or thinking. Lily paused, hoping Ivy wouldn’t bring Todd up again.

“I just wanted to say...I’m sorry for pushing you. I just didn’t want things to escalate too fast and I thought maybe it’d be best for you to sort things out quickly. It’s just,” Here, Ivy showed the barest hint of a smile. “I’ve never had a boyfriend, so I can’t imagine what it feels like for you.”

Lily’s heart melted. She got from her bed and went to Ivy’s wrapping her arms around her. They swayed slightly, giggling about the silliness of their fight. Lily heard a soft pattering of feet and looked up to see Melissa pouting at them, mouth full of toothpaste foam, toothbrush in hand.

“Lisa, no!” Ivy scrambled to stop her, but it was too late. Melissa walked over and wrapped her arms around the both of them. Ivy always complained about how strong smelling Melissa’s toothpaste was, and how it disturbed her sleep because it interfered with her circadian rhythm.

And that was how Lily ended up in a tangle of limbs and laughter with her friends, all bitterness of the evening forgotten. It was one of those rare instances where her head felt delightfully clear.

But as she lay in bed, eyes tracing the pattern of the fold of her bed hangings, Lily felt uneasy again. As she realised, forgetting wasn’t the same as resolving. And so Lily spent her final first night back at Hogwarts with a feeling of emptiness inside her.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lily gently wrapped her covers around her frame. Not too tightly, but just...comfortable. They were warm, and the morning was cold, and she never wanted to get up.

But even the warmth from her covers seemed to mock her, just like everything else. Ever since she got to Hogwarts, maybe it was because of her encounter with Todd, but everything seemed to innocently assault her with memories. Her pumpkin juice - that was Todd’s favourite. The staircase leading up to the Ravenclaw Common room - where she sprained her ankle once, and Todd helped her to the Hospital Wing. Her bed covers - the ones Todd always neatly arranged, with hospital covers, since his mum was a nurse.

It was exhausting, being surrounded by so many excruciating memories. Lily sat up and gently placed her feet on the cold and rough stone floor. She shivered, feeling hyper-sensitive to the cold. She hurried to the bathroom to get ready for school.

Ivy was already ready, and was shaking Melissa awake. Melissa shoved her hand away and dug deeper under the covers, hands latching to the bed frame. As expected, Ivy started trying to yank Melissa out of bed, who resolutely clenched her fists even tighter, letting out a stream of incomprehensible swearing. Finally, Ivy had no choice but to shoot a jet of water down Melissa’s shirt, who screamed and tumbled out of bed (Melissa, not the shirt). Ivy quietly slipped out of the dorm before Melissa could get up.

Breakfast was uneventful. Todd was being his usual loud and cheerful self, though his smile turned frosty when he caught Lily’s eye. Lily immediately looked away, pretending to be interested in what Melissa had to say about the Ministry. She could still feel his gaze lingering on her, so she turned her head to look back at him, only to see that Todd wasn’t even looking at her, but had continued fooling around with his friends. 

Logically, Lily knew she should be glad that Todd was getting over it, like how she should be too. Maybe it was the way Todd was laughing too loudly, or that Melissa's heavy criticism was putting her off, but Lily didn’t feel like eating anymore. Lily subtly pushed her plate away from herself by an inch but Ivy still noticed.

Lily guiltily met her gaze. Melissa continued ploughing on, completely unaware of their silent conversation until Ivy interrupted her.

“Lily, you said you were fine. I’m not going to push you to tell us what happened, but you need to understand that we, as your friends, deeply care about you and we want to see you happy. Healthy.  _ Eating _ .”

Ivy craned her neck, searching the room for Todd in a very obvious manner. Lily ducked her head, embarrassed, muttering to Ivy. When she located Todd (which wasn’t very hard to do; Todd had the knack of commanding attention, wanted or unwanted), she smiled brightly at him. Todd caught her eye and looked confused.

Ivy responded by giving him the finger.

Lily was still reeling from the hilarious flabbergasted expression on Todd’s face as Ivy steered her out of the hall, Melissa trailing behind them as she goggled at Ivy. Lily was tugging at Ivy’s white fingertips which were painfully digging into her skin while trying to talk some sense into Ivy who was being very quiet.

“Ivanna, I can’t believe you did that. That was irresponsible, immature, completely uncalled for-”

“A professor could have seen!”

“Yes, thank you. See, even  _ Lisa _ agrees with me.”

“I’m not agreeing; I’m egging her on.”

By now, the three girls were a good distance away from the Great Hall. Ivy let go of her death grip on Lily’s shoulders who winced thankfully. Lily looked up at Ivy with a slight smile on her face, hoping to laugh it off, but Ivy looked fit for murder, ghostly pale. Melissa was nervously chewing her thumbnail.

“You know Lisa and I are only looking out for you, right?”

“...yes. I know. And I’m so grate-”

“Even if you didn’t believe us, we dropped our  _ entire  _ summer for you. Specifically, the summer before our  _ last _ year. That’s got to account for something.”

“It does, and-”

“We don’t want your thanks. In case you haven’t caught on the past six years, we’re invested in you. And we want to know what the fuck is going on between you and Todd.”

Lily was starting to feel indignant and jutted her chin out defiantly. “I didn’t  _ ask _ you to-”

Ivy was starting to get angry too. Melissa tried to speak up. The two of them had very bad tempers and there was only one of her and she wouldn’t know how to control them if things spiralled out of control.

“No, you’re right, you  _ didn’t  _ ask. Because friends don’t  _ need _ to ask.”

“Oh, so that just gives you the unrestricted right to pick apart my life as you please? This is my  _ life _ , Ivy, not some fun experiment to tinker with as you please.”

“I  _ know _ this is your life - you don’t need to treat me like a child!”

“Then stop  _ acting like one _ and leave me  _ alone. _ ”

With that, Lily pushed past Ivy and walked. Lily was blind with rage. Literally. She wasn’t looking or thinking about where she was going, not even caring in the slightest if she was trampling someone. Lily mindlessly walked up blurs of endless staircases. She was so swept up in her fury that she didn’t even realise her hands were shaking until she clenched them into fists.

Who did Ivy think she was, telling her how to live  _ her  _ life? She could do whatever the bloody hell she pleased! She didn’t have to talk to Todd, or eat, or tell  _ anyone _ about her feelings if she didn’t want to. She didn’t need to anyway. There was nothing complex about this quarrel - Lily was definitely in the right this time.

After another few minutes of brisk walking, Lily finally slowed to a stop, realising that she was hyperventilating. She shook her head and hands, trying to get her breathing under control. She was at the top of one of Hogwarts’ many towers, but she wasn’t sure which one. This tower seemed to be an old, derelict one. It was crumbling a bit, and didn’t have any safety railings. It was clear that no one had been there in a long time.

Lily looked at the precipice of the tower, but stayed away. The tower was so far away from the rest of the school so it was extremely quiet. With the floor glowing with the morning’s gentle sunlight, it almost seemed tranquil.

For the first time in months, Lily felt something that had the closest semblance to peace. The sight didn’t really stop her relentless mind from thinking, but for a brief moment of time, it consumed her senses and flooded her mind.

Lily closed her eyes and stepped closer to the edge, running her hands along the rough and scratchy walls. It was something Ivy would do - always the risk taker, living off the thrill of never knowing when it all might go up in flames. Lily missed Ivy’s lightheartedness and comforting listening skills. But she knew she couldn’t fix things between them, not yet at least. They were both too furious with the other to resolve this in a dignified and mature manner.

And Lily  _ wanted  _ to be stubborn and irrational, just for a while. She was tired of always having to be the bigger person and having to apologise first. She did plenty of that with Todd.

Lily shut her eyes and grimaced. Her mind was torn apart with enough chaos already, without Todd adding fear to the mix.

Lily opened her eyes, feeling overwhelmed with thoughts and memories about Ivy. She tilted her head downwards. Lily had stopped hyperventilating a while ago, and as she was met with the sight of the sheer drop of the tower, Lily’s breath was taken away.

She felt like she stood there for ages, for eons. Hogwarts could have been on fire and Lily would still be watching the unruly yet inviting grass, interspersed with feathery **dandelions**.

(STOP READING HERE and skip to the next chapter to avoid suicidal mentions.)

Her stupor wasn’t beauty-induced. Not exactly, at least. Time seemed to slow down as Lily marveled at the simplicity of it all. She hadn’t really understood the appeal of suicide by falling before. It always seemed like more of a muggle thing, most wizards usually choosing to ingest some potion towards a practically painless death. She always assumed every incident reported in the paper to be a tragic accident, yet another victim of circumstance.

But as she watched the hypnotic sway of the grass (vaguely wondering if there even was a breeze) everything seemed to just...fit. Pieces of an arduous and dreadful puzzle finally obeying her and slipping into their rightful places. People weren’t just driven to suicide in an insanity frenzy. Not all of them. Some people... _ chose _ suicide.

A swooping sensation of being so high off the ground, a surge of fear as she lifted her foot. Wind whistling in her ears, feeling delightfully cool against her neck. In reality, it would probably last seconds. But would she feel like it was years, perhaps even centuries long?

And then finally,  _ finally _ , she’d be united with the grass. Her broken, lifeless body would stay there, maybe for a day, maybe for a year, depending when someone realised she was missing and when they found her. Eventually, if no one found her, she’d become  _ part  _ of the grass - awaiting the next victim.

At least this way, Todd couldn’t kill her. She beat him to it.  _ Ha. Take that, Theodore.  _ Lily wondered when she started thinking that Todd might kill her. She wasn’t  _ scared _ of him. Just...mildly intimidated. Anyway, he couldn’t even  _ do _ anything to her even if he wanted to. She was pureblood, too. She had just as much power, wealth and influence as him.

Except...did she?

Hysterical laughter bubbled in her throat, which felt like it was cemented shut. No one would realise she was gone. And when they did, it’d be too late. She vaguely registered some unsettling thoughts. Ivy would be upset. Melissa too. Would Finn? She only knew him, like  _ really _ knew him, for a few months.

She didn’t know why, but she hoped he would come to the funeral. 

He’d comfort her mom, rub comforting circles on her back, things like that. Forever the gentleman. She was sorry that she wouldn’t have an open casket funeral anymore. And more than anything, she hoped Finn wouldn’t think of her poorly, in death. 

Professor McGonagall would be hurt that she didn’t realise how one of her students was suffering so. Professor Longbottom would be sad to see a student with ‘so much potential’ go.

Oh, her mother would be sad. And father. And Aunt Lydia. And Uncle Richard. Oh, Uncle Richard would cry buckets. Her mother would probably knit one last sweater for Lily to wear in her...in her coffin. If she still had a torso. That oddly comforted her.

However, she wouldn’t be sorry that her mind would stop working. At this point, it seemed like the only solution. In her last few seconds, if she happened to bleed out a long and excruciating death like she deserved for all the crimes she committed in her not-very-long life, would her mind feel betrayed? Would it be self-aware? Would it know, that this flesh it was cocooned in had taken the conscious decision to end it?

But she wasn’t dead yet, so her mind continued to buzz, obsessing over these burning questions. And, until she was put out of her misery, Lily was a slave to her mind’s whims and wishes, including the questions whose answers it  _ needed  _ to know.

And there was only one way to find out.

She gripped the edge of the broken wall, stone crumbling between her fingers even as she held on. For the first time, she seemed to realise that a fight might have broken out here. It explained a lot of things, like the debris scattered on the floor. Her mind was replaying sped-up visions. Melissa giving in to her worry and finally searching for Lily, Ivy still every bit as stubborn.

Melissa only being able to sneak out in the dead of the night, lantern in hand, hoodie pulled over her head. Melissa feeling exhausted after searching for hours, torrents of rain beating down on her (the weather seemed fitting), mud splashed across her shoes. Melissa, by some twisted chance of fate, leaning an inch forward to reveal Lily’s rotting corpse in the dim light of the lantern.

Lily’s thoughts weren’t so organised after that. Flashes of pictures, shocked faces, headlines(pureblood families were still the talk of the town, even if they weren’t so highly revered anymore)...all the way until one person heard about the news.

Ivy.

Here, Lily’s mind fumbled. People rarely conformed to stereotypes or assumptions made about them, and Ivy was no different. At first, Lily imagined Ivy turning away coldly and acting indifferent, her mouth turned into such an out-of-character and disgusted sneer, saying that a horrible person like her deserved nothing less. The vividity of that vision cut Lily so deep in such a sensitive place that hurt that Lily sank to her knees, still clutching the sharp, jagged rock, fingers slick with blood.

Lily’s shaky grip tightened with resolve, driving the rock deeper into her hands. The vision melted, and a new one replaced it. Ivy, completely speechless, as white as she was today, but not out of anger. Ivy, wonderful Ivy, hurt in her eyes, thinking that it was her fault, blaming herself, starving herself, giving up on her dreams, losing all her ambitions, Ivy  _ killing  _ herself-

That was the final straw for Lily. Her throat unstuck but her laughter had died down. Instead, she started bawling noisily, chest heaving as she shook with agonising, wracking sobs. Lily never cried much, but here she wailed and screamed in anguish, begging for a respite from the relentless torments of her mind. She no longer understood it, no longer wanted it. It was a creature of its own now, wild and feral, changing her, making her impulsive, making her do things she didn’t want to and then leaving her to suffer the consequences herself.

She cried for Ivy, who wasn’t talking to her, and might never again. She cried for Finn, who only didn’t judge her out of the good of his heart. She cried for Professor McGonagall, who would beat herself up over something she couldn’t control. She cried for Professor Longbottom, who would have to see the light of a life die out for purely selfish and weak reasons, after seeing countless ones being lost during the war. She cried for all of them, for all the people who would blame themselves for something Lily did.

After all, it wasn’t their fault that she was fucked up.

Her screams died down to whimpers, and Lily was still all alone. She was absolutely sure of how remote this place was now - she wasn’t exactly being quiet, yet no one had come rushing in. Her fingers were still trembling so much that Lily could barely wipe her tears. Her eyes felt dry and itchy and her heart ached for all the burdens it carried. She couldn’t do this, not to all those people.

Her mind felt like the aftermath of a brutal warzone. Everything is disarray, remains of what once was scattered across the battlefield. The stench of death and loss hanging in the air. Blood staining weapons and soldiers alike. And fear and apprehension weighing heavily in the air, because no one knows if the war really is over yet.

Lily wondered what the time was. She didn’t want to look directly at the sun; her head hurt from all that crying. Minutes, or hours, could have passed, Lily didn’t know. Her headache was steadily getting worse, but Lily didn’t have the strength to nurse it. She wished she could just dive under those same covers from this morning and hide from the rest of the world, with someone to take care of her and fight her battles  _ for  _ her.

But that wasn’t going to happen. Lily rested her head against the stone.

It wasn’t the first time Lily felt like her dreams had slipped through her fingers like sand, escaping her grasp, and that she had let them. 

Again.


	11. The First Tremors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A note like that never bodes well. Lily struggles to piece things together in her head. Tim really can't stop screwing things up between Josh and Elliot.

**Chapter 10: The First Tremors**

_ For Timothy -  _

_ Did the rumble of the inevitable only shake the ground, _

_ Or did it resonate in your bones? _

_ -f.r. _

Rob turned the paper over in his dragon hide-covered fingers, polishing his magnifying glass. He was making odd humming sounds from time to time, but had yet to tell anyone what they meant, or what he had found out about the cryptic message.

Josh was just dejectedly tapping his fingers on the wooden table rhythmically, having put up a notice outside the Common Room that auditions would resume the next day. He was the least surprised and least curious about the note, claiming that it was inevitable, and that there was no need to get all riled up over it.

Finn and Elliot were locked in an intense chess battle. Well, Finn was, at least. Elliot was somewhat distracted, but was still in the lead. Finn frowned and scratched his head, leaning back in his chair. Elliot, sensing that Finn would take a while to make his move, turned to Tim, and smiled sympathetically.

“Feeling alright?”

Feeling alright? Was Tim feeling alright? Of course he wasn’t feeling alright. He had a bloody concussion (mild, but he still had one) and was being treated by a child. Finn was already in a bad mood when he reached the Common room because his last lesson had been Arithmancy, which always muddled his head, and his mood further deteriorated to see Timothy agitated and out of bed, disobeying Rob’s explicit instructions for him to stay in bed. The enigmatic note certainly wasn’t helping matters.

And, for some reason, he didn’t have his tie anymore. He probably lost it in some sort of freak accident that wouldn’t have improved his mood.

As a result, Finn crankily forced an indignant Tim into an armchair, pinning his arms to his side using a blanket. Tim, in an act of defiance, stood up, but his body decided it didn’t really want to be standing up. His vision swam and Finn forced Tim back into the armchair which, although he wouldn’t admit it, made his head clear up a lot. He maintained that he was only being so compliant because he  _ felt  _ like sitting in the armchair.

But Josh really liked Elliot, and Tim had done a shitty job of a first impression. So he decided to save all that for another day.

“Yeah, no, just a bit tired from all the...excitement.”

Elliot nodded understandingly, and looked away awkwardly. Tim struggled to come up with some small talk.

“So, uh, you never really got your audition. What instrument were you going to play?”

“Tuba. I was going to do a cover from a muggle song.”

Tim straightened up. Ah, here was something they could talk about.

“That’s nice. Do you take muggle studies? What song were you going to play?”

Elliot looked embarrassed. “Oh, no, I don’t take muggle studies. I just chose the song because...it was really popular.”

Tim opened his mouth to reply and saw the subtle glance Elliot gave to Josh, who was still indifferently watching Rob’s examination. He suddenly remembered all that extensive research Josh did in their fourth year, and incredulously looked at Elliot, who was looking awkward. Could it be…?

“You know,” Tim said loudly, fumbling a bit. He’d never been a wingman, because of that pact they made in their fourth year, but still felt obliged to help out Josh in these circumstances. “ _ Josh _ , er, likes muggle music.”

Elliot pretended to look surprised, but Tim was a master at feigned expressions, and realised that Elliot already knew that. Still, Tim played along, nodding vigorously.

“D’you think,” Elliot shyly glanced at Josh, who was still not looking at them. Tim willed him to turn his head slightly to the right, but he didn’t. “He’d like the piece I’m doing? I mean, if the band is still on after this, could you perhaps listen to me once? Before my audition? I mean, if it’s not too much trouble.”

_ Success _ . Josh would be overjoyed if he saw how comfortable Elliot was being with Tim. He patted himself on the back for being so sociable even when invalid. Still, he pretended to think about it a bit and agreed graciously, keeping his smile to himself.

Elliot grinned at him thankfully, and properly looked at Josh properly for the first time. He followed his gaze towards Rob.

“How’s the inspection going?” Tim and Elliot had been talking in whispers so the dramatic increase in sound startled everyone. Rob nearly dropped the letter and Josh broke out of his brooding, looking much more affable now that Elliot was talking. Finn blearily lifted his head, looking confused.

“It’s-it’s going good.” Rob said. He put the letter down and pulled off his gloves, joining their circle. Josh dragged his armchair closer to the rest of them. Rob cleared his throat and began his analysis.

“So. No fingerprints, sadly. Letters have been cut out from a variety of magazines, so the culprit must receive a lot of mail during breakfast. And they’re all  _ gossip _ magazines so I’m leaning towards it being a girl-”

“Don’t, Rob, Ivy would have a fit if she heard you say that. Besides, look at Jordan Kavinsky.”

Jordan Kavinsky was an especially whiny Ravenclaw in their year who  _ loved  _ to gossip. He had hoards of information, some of which were true, some of which were false. At least, they  _ seemed  _ false.

“Well, ok then. So right now, our possible suspects are...everyone.” Rob sighed,scratching his forehead. “Can we at least eliminate all of  _ us  _ from the list?”

“Oh, definitely. And I was thinking all purebloods too.” Finn said, talking over the others’ protests. “Look, I didn’t do it, Josh didn’t do it, and Elliot definitely didn’t do. What kind of twisted pureblood would leave a sign criticizing themselves?”

“That’s true. But look, they left it outside the  _ Slytherin  _ Common Room. They’re pre- old-fashioned.”

Rob was obviously about to say something else but switched to ‘old-fashioned’ at the last minute. His palms started sweating as he felt everyone staring at him. Josh took a deep breath.

“Look, there’s no use pointing the finger at others. We just need to take it in our stride and move on.”

“So you’re saying you’ll ignore it?”

“I’m not saying we’ll ignore it. We’ll have to keep a look out for any potential suspects or suspicious behaviour. But we can’t make hasty assumptions now. And until then, we need to carry on with our daily lives.”

“Reckon we should show one of the professors? McGonagall?”

“No, it’s not enough to go on. It’s just a note. Maybe things won’t escalate from here.”

“And if they do?”

“Then...we’ll deal with it. Together.”

Josh pulled out his wand and held it out in the middle of their circle. The rest of them also pulled out their wands and joined their tips together (Tim had to wiggle a bit to free his arms and then hunt for his wand that was lost in the folds of his blanket, making everyone a bit impatient). Except for Rob, who seemed a bit troubled.

“Rob?” Josh prompted, still mildly annoyed by Tim.

Rob pulled out his wand too and added it to the ring of wands. They held their lit wand-tips together for a few seconds before disbanding. Josh stood up and started clearing the area of instruments and stray pieces of sheet music, and Elliot joined him. Tim tried to wrap himself in his blanket like before but failed so he just draped his blanket over himself and sunk deeper into his armchair.

Finn hurriedly got up, stuffing a few items in his satchel, briskly walking out of the Common Room in long strides. He looked as pale and strained as he had when he first returned to the Common Room. Rob jogged to catch up with him.

“Oi, where are you rushing off too?” Finn stopped abruptly, having just realised that Rob was following him, causing Rob to trip a bit.

“I have to get to the Hospital Wing. Is something wrong?” As anxious as Finn seemed, he spoke kindly to Rob. He had seen Rob’s hesitation during the meeting. Finn continued walking, but at a much slower pace, Rob nervously wringing his hands next to him.

“It’s-it’s just that, I realised something, right before Josh started talking. I realised why someone would put up a sign like that.”

Finn looked mystified. “Then why didn’t you say something?”

“I would have said it wrong. I just-I didn’t want  _ Josh _ to think, it’s just...he’s my best friend-”

“Get to the point, Rob, we’re almost at the Hospital Wing.”

“A muggleborn could have done it.”

Finn stopped, suddenly extremely aware of the impact of what Rob was discussing. He chose his next words carefully, not wanting to scare Rob into staying silent. But Rob was never particularly brave, and from what Finn could tell, this wasn’t an easy conversation to have from a muggleborn to a pureblood. Finn spoke as gently as possible.

“What do you mean, Rob?”

Rob rocked himself on his heels, looking up and down the corridor, making sure no one was around. But of course, the halls were deserted as everyone had retired to their Common Rooms, the library, or even the Quidditch Pitch. Rob stepped closer, talking barely above a whisper.

“It could be a half-blood, too. The culprit  _ definitely _ holds a grudge towards purebloods, but may be too scared to do any  _ real _ action against them. The note was an easy way for them to express their hostility. And they left it outside the  _ Slytherin  _ Common Room, even though it’s been years since Slytherin was famed for its Dark Wizards. Someone who holds a grudge with prejudices from long ago...like before the Second Wizarding War. Maybe someone who’s been hurt.”

Finn understood what Rob was getting at now. He also understood why Rob didn’t want to tell this to Josh himself. He nodded gravely and continued walking, Rob still at his side. Finn spoke in a low voice.

“It’s a plausible theory; it makes sense. And don’t worry about telling Josh, I’ll tell him later. Or tomorrow. Depending how he’s...reacting, to all this.”

They rounded the corner, finally at the Hospital Wing. Rob felt much more cheerful now that he had gotten that off his chest, and his curiosity was piqued.

“What’s wrong with you, anyway? Headache? Here for some Pepperup Potion on the first day of school?”

Finn didn’t return Rob’s teasing smile. Rob faltered, his face matching Finn’s serious expression.

“You can’t tell anyone about this, but I’m here to visit someone.”

“Who?”

“You can’t tell anyone. I mean, other than the four of us.”

Rob was starting to feel scared. Finn was rarely this anxious or serious.

Finn turned away from Rob, and opened the doors to the Hospital Wing.

“Hello, Madam Pomfrey.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------

Lily didn’t know how long she sat there, leaning against the crumbling rock. The hurricane of thoughts had died down, leaving Lily in the debris and ruins. It seemed frightening to her now. Then, it just felt like she was analysing something logically. Like she did with things she couldn’t figure out, like Todd. But it felt wrong to explain suicide with facts when it was something so emotionally driven.

She sat there, while the delicate morning light turned into an intense afternoon sun, directly above her. Her head felt like it was going to burst, but Lily couldn’t move her head. Or didn’t want to. All that bravado...minutes? hours? ...ago had disappeared. She didn’t want to try to be brave, or strong anymore. She closed her eyes and turned her face towards the sun even more, as if defiantly challenging it.

There was a creak of wood, and lots of shuffling. Lily furrowed her brow, eyes still closed, trying to decide what it was. Footsteps. Definitely footsteps. But they were...heavy. Definitely not Ivy or Melissa then. Was it a professor? No, it couldn’t be. They wouldn’t come to this empty shell of a tower, wild with weeds with ivy creeping up on it.

For a moment, Lily truly understood the tower. Huge and intimidating in appearance, looking lost and abandoned. But only because...something happened here. And people will talk about that something in hushed whispers and never come to the tower again because something absolutely terrible must have taken place to leave the tower in such a dreadful state.

Sometimes, Lily felt like that too.

The footsteps came to a stop. The person was behind her now. He sighed, and Lily opened her eyes quickly, realising who it was. She shifted back into the shade, blinking as her eyes tried to adjust to the sudden change of light.

It was Finn. He didn’t look too disappointed. Mostly hurt. Lily drew her knees up and leaned against the wall.

“You really shouldn’t do that.”

Lily shifted more off her weight on the wall, and started inspecting a very interesting patch of floor. Of course she knew it wasn’t safe, even in her chaotic state of mind, she had seen the cracks on the floor. And she had also seen what Finn hadn’t - how they didn’t exactly lead up all the way to the wall. She would be fine, leaning against the wall for a while.

Finn sighed and sat down facing her. Lily looked at him and interlaced her fingers together on her knees. It made the cuts on her hands sting, but she bore the pain. Finn sighed dramatically.

“Well, you missed  _ all _ your morning lessons, so you’re lucky I took notes for you in Potions. Ivy covered your other classes. And you know she doesn’t even make notes for herself.”

Lily ignored the surge of shame she was feeling. Ivy was ready to put all of this behind her, and here Lily was, contemplating the pain Ivy would feel if she died. Finn carefully studied her reaction, but didn’t understand much.

“Lils. Are you okay?”

That was all it took for Lily to break down again, but not as violently as before. It somehow hurt more, each sob and shake of her shoulders laced with everything she’s been holding onto since...months ago. But even as she cried, and incoherently sobbed explanations to Finn, Lily felt like she was letting go of burdens she’d been carrying since...forever.

All day, Lily kept replaying every single instance where someone would ask her why she was so different, or what was going on with her. And every time it felt so painful because she didn’t know herself. She didn’t know what was wrong with herself, or if there  _ was _ anything wrong with herself, or if it was just all in her head.

She cried until she felt like she ran out of tears. Her throat and nose was raw and her eyes were red and puffy. There were marks on her face from where she had dug her fingernails into her skin, and some patches of blood smeared on her cheeks.

When she looked up, Finn was sitting slightly closer to her, and looked extremely sorrowful. She was so happy and relieved that there wasn’t any pity or sympathy in his eyes. He seemed just as sad and wracked with pain as she was. And his eyes were suspiciously red.

Lily glanced down and realised Finn had removed his tie and was holding it out to her. She accepted it from him and dabbed at her face, wincing a few times. Her palms and face were smarting with pain, and she realised she must look a mess - blood and tears smeared all over her face. Finn slowly stood up and extended his hand to Lily.

Lily clutched his hand and shakily stood, time feeling so surreal. As obvious as it seemed now, she hadn’t imagined leaving the tower in any way other than falling. Slowly, the both of them climbed down the rickety spiral staircase. Each step felt like a blessing to Lily, another step closer to reality.

Rob was holding her elbow, gently steering her to safety whenever she would be about to walk into a pillar or a trick step. Lily felt like they were walking through an endless network of halls and corridors, all identical, as if she was seeing them for the first time, instead of having seen them for seven years. After a while, she closed her eyes, letting Finn guide her completely, stepping into the safe and comfortable boundaries of her mind.

After a while, she felt Finn stop, and gently push her down into a bed. The bed had rough, starchy sheets, and the pillow was too soft, but Lily was so exhausted she didn’t care. She heard a murmur of voices, and instead of opening her eyes and demanding to know what they were saying, as she would have under normal circumstances, she let it be.

For as Lily was slipping into the bed and relinquishing her grip on Finn’s wrist, she realised it wasn’t her hands that were shaking.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

Josh rubbed his forehead tiredly, suddenly feeling exhausted. He wasn’t naive enough to act all injured and sniffle over the note, going “Who would do such a thing?”

Because the truth was, the list would go on and on.

Josh sat down on a stack of boxes, mindlessly sifting through a stack of sheet music. Practically everyone had chosen to do classical music - Beethoven’s symphonies, Mozart’s Sonatas…

Josh perked up slightly when he felt a different sheet. It was rougher - parchment. And some parts of the staff line were shakily drawn. Hand-written.  _ Hand-written. Someone wrote their sheet music out by hand _ . Josh marvelled at the person’s dedication. And it was a muggle song. Can’t Stop The Feeling, by Justin Timberlake. Josh ached to hear it being played, he was obsessed with it just last year.

He was so absorbed by the sheet music that he didn’t even hear Elliot sit down in the armchair next to him until he saw a shadow fall on the parchment. He looked up and saw Elliot looking at him carefully. Elliot had these mesmerising blue eyes, the kind that Josh could stare at all day-

Josh snapped himself out of it and smiled at him happily. Like a friend. Friends smiled at each other. And that’s all they were - friends. Elliot was a  _ really _ nice friend - oh, the  _ best _ . Maybe it was the way he looked so understanding, or the quiet ways in which he showed his support.

Josh reluctantly tore his eyes away from Elliot, fingering the sheet music gently. It would be optimistic to the point of foolishness to hope the news wouldn’t get out. The news  _ would _ get out. And the entire Hogwarts would hear about how the school band, once a symbol of standing up against blood purism, was being targeted by what were, probably, budding Death Eaters. He’d count himself lucky if none of the existing members left.

“Don’t let it get to you.” Elliot’s soft voice gently brought Josh out of his reverie. Josh wanted to cry over how perfect Elliot seemed - even his  _ voice _ was smooth. Josh immediately felt a bit better; Elliot somehow made it seem a much more manageable situation, with his support. Come to think of it, what was Josh so worried about? It was  _ one _ note. The culprit might not even have the courage to take it further.

“Not, it’s, uh…” Josh smiled to show Elliot he wasn’t that stressed about it. Elliot’s smile brightened and Josh felt his heart lighten even more. Elliot was like a stress reliever, or a golden retriever.

“I’m fine, but I just hope this doesn’t impact the band in a huge way. We’ve come so far, it would suck for us to have established all this...for nothing.”

Elliot nodded understandingly and leaned towards him until his face was in line with the armchair. It reduced the already little distance in between them. Josh could see every fine strand of Elliot’s platinum blonde hair, fluttering slightly. Josh swallowed and unwillingly tore his eyes away from Eliiot’s hair, meeting his gaze. It was only then did he realise that Elliot was waiting for him to continue.

“Oh.” Josh could feel himself going scarlet and cursed his transparency. He didn’t want Elliot to get the wrong idea and get awkward around him. He hastily got up and spent a good few minutes slowly combing through the room for any stray items they missed out, before returning to his seat. Elliot had a small smile on his face, and JOsh didn’t know if it was because he  _ knew _ , not that there was anything to know, or it was just...sympathy.

Josh found that he didn’t mind sympathy from Elliot if it meant he smiled more.

“If it makes you feel any better, the ones who truly matter will stick with you. Through and through.”

Josh stared at Elliot, not sure if he was still talking about the band or...something else. Something like himself.

He wanted to tell, to  _ show  _ everyone that they weren’t affected by it. But by this time tomorrow, the mysterious note would be the talk of the school and everyone would boycott the band. Out of fear, or even agreement. All it needed to start a War was someone to rally people.

Josh slouched on the boxes, leaning on his forearms on his lap. Elliot was still leaning back on the couch. Josh turned his head slightly to the right and looked at Elliot, who looked back. After a few seconds, Elliot gave a puff of laughter and Josh laughed softly.

“Dammit, we’re just 17. We’re not supposed to be dealing with this shit.”

“Our parents weren’t supposed to fight in the war either.” Elliot ‘s smile faded slightly, and Josh panicked. He wanted Elliot to keep smiling. He hated that he made him stop smiling. Was it because the war was so horrendous?

But as Josh disappointedly looked away, he had a feeling it might have to do with his father. He loved his dad, he really did, but sometimes it was frustrating that he had made such horrible life decisions. Even if Josh would have done the same. But his dad loved him, and he was a changed man.

If only Elliot could see that.

Josh and Elliot heard a sharp inhale coming from Tim’s armchair. Tim had just woken up and was stretching himself out, eyes still closed. When he opened them, he did a double-take on Josh and Elliot, which seemed to remind Elliot how close they were sitting. Elliot stood up, muttering something about cookies, and left the Common Room, with Josh and Tim helplessly staring after him.

Josh knew he had monumentally screwed up. He kicked himself, sighing at Tim’s wide-eyed gaze. His voice was still a bit scratchy from having just woken up.

“I’m sorry. Did I interrupt something?”

Josh thought about that evening he and Elliot had spent together in the library. How they met earlier that day, how he felt recounting his experience to his friends, and even how he felt with Elliot hanging around today. Josh shook his head.

“No, you didn’t interrupt anything.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------

Lily didn’t know she had fallen asleep till she woke up. She didn’t have any dreams, or any thoughts. She felt like she had just laid down on the bed, and that five hours had passed in the time it took for her to find a clock and look at it. There was a privacy curtain around her bed so she had to look at her watch that was on the side table, along with the rest of her belongings. Strange - she didn’t remember emptying her pockets.

Her hands were bandaged - not too tightly, but snugly, and parts of her face were stinging. She had more feeling in her limbs and felt stronger than she had in a long time. She made the mistake of trying to sit up and immediately flopped back onto the pillow again in a spell of dizziness. She groaned and closed her eyes, just as she heard the curtain swish.

Lily grudgingly opened her eyes to meet the sharp yet caring gaze of Madam Pomfrey. She remained silent, checking her hands,twisting her wrist and such, applying some ointment on the minor cuts on her face. Finally, she stepped out again, and returned with a small chair. She sat down on it and stared at Lily. Lily knew what she was doing. Lily stared back.

“Well?”

“Well  _ what _ ?” Lily couldn’t help being snarky. Surely Madam Pomfrey didn’t think that being shown the least bit of kindness and compassion would make her into an emotional mess, spilling her darkest secrets.

Madam Pomfrey’s whole demeanour changed. She crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair, fingers interlocked.

“You’re free to go. Just some minor cuts and bruises, well on their way to healing.”

Lily looked apprehensively at her hands, suddenly suspicious. As unlikely as it seemed, this was Lily’s first time in the Hospital Wing as a patient. She had visited many times (it was part of the occupational hazards of having Ivy as a best friend) as a visitor, but that was it.

“Oh. Thanks. I just...I thought that you could mend small injuries immediately.”

“I can.”

Lily stared disbelievingly at Madam Pomfrey, who stared right back.

“...so why aren’t you fixing my hands?”

“I let some injuries heal at their own time. For those who need to learn from their cuts.”

Lily sharply sucked in a deep breath. “I’m  _ sorry _ , I  _ won’t _ go to that tower again, I don’t even know  _ what _ it was-”

“That’s not the lesson I’m trying to teach.”

Lily was starting to feel pissed off at this point. She had just gone through a  _ huge _ emotional breakdown; didn’t she deserve more care? No, instead she had a Healer telling her to learn from her cuts, something that wasn’t to ‘never-do-this-again’. Madam Pomfrey uncrossed her legs and sat up straight, talking softly.

“You’re bottling things up. I don’t know what they are and, frankly, I don’t want to know. But I know who do want to know - your friends. They all miss you so very much. Really, I had to chase them out with a broom.”

Lily smiled at the mental image of Madam Pomfrey threateningly brandishing a broom at an indignant Ivy, or a stubborn Melissa, and felt her eyes burn with tears. Merlin, she felt like such a mess, what with her pendulum-like mood swings. She broke her eye contact with Madam Pomfrey and turned her head to look at the brown, weathered doors of the Hospital Wing, as if she could see Ivy and Melissa bursting through those doors if she stared hard enough.

Madam Pomfrey stood up and pushed her chair back a bit. Just as Madam Pomfrey was about to help Lily out of her bed, the Hospital Wing doors opened. Lily nearly fell out of her bed in shock, having imagined her friends walking through those same doors moments ago. Her mind was overactive, not telepathic. Or was it telekinesis? Kinematics? Kinesthetic?

It was fucking useless for sure.

But it wasn’t Ivy. Or Melissa. It was Finn, with one of his friends. Lily was really terrible at remembering names. That was probably...John. He  _ looked  _ like a John. And there was a John Kavinsky in their year. Still, she imagined him to look more...provocative, from what she had heard about him.

Lily tuned back into reality, Madam Pomfrey’s irritated voice filling her ears. She was giving Finn quite an earful, but he still had a slight smile on his face.

“Mr. Rowen, I explicitly told you-”

“You said you’d send a note to me when she woke up!”   
  


“She woke up just a few minutes ago, I was going to discharge her-”

“Discharge her?” Finn looked astonished. He walked over to Lily’s bedside, removing his satchel as he did so, and gently placed his hand on Lily’s heavily bandaged right hand, still looking at Madam Pomfrey. Lily found it ironic that she had wanted this same coddling a few minutes ago, but felt irritated by it now. “She’s invalid!”   
  


“She is not.”

“Look at her!”

“She is  _ my _ patient, Mr. Rowen, I will discharge her when I deem it fit, and I deem it-”

Finn dramatically tilted his head, looking beseechingly at his friend, who had been watching the drama unfold with interest (further strengthening Lily’s theory that he was John - Ivy had called him a “Gossip Whore”) but now looked completely nonplussed. Lily willed Finn to  _ say his name _ , but no such luck.

His friend’s eyes darted between Madam Pomfrey’s highly annoyed expression and Finn’s comically desperate one. Finally meeting Madam Pomfrey’s gaze, he spoke awkwardly.

“I mean...if Madam Pomfrey, a trained medical professional-”

Finn groaned and flopped dramatically beside Lily, his right hand on his forehead, having to accept that he was clearly outnumbered. He met Lily’s amused gaze, having one last trick up his sleeve.

“Lily,” he began sickeningly sweetly. “I’m  _ sure _ you’re still recuperating from your ordeal.”

“I’m fine, Finn.”

Finn threw him hands up and stood up, making the bed squeak. He spoke in a low voice with his friend, eyes darting to Lily sometimes. Lily felt grateful for having such a caring cousin, but was annoyed at being coddled so much. She winced a few times as Madam Pomfrey unwrapped her bandages and delicately applied a soothing, cold ointment to some cuts.

“You’re still not going to heal them?”

Madam Pomfrey smiled at Lily as she cleared her bandages, speaking in a conversational whisper.

“Not yet, dear.”

It lifted her spirits, though not as much as Finn had, to have a challenge, a test, something to think about. Lily examined her hands closely, picking at some parts until she saw Finn’s friend (who she was still convinced was John) looking at her reprovingly. She hastily put her hand away, just as Madam Pomfrey emerged from her office.

Lily shakily rose from her bed, her legs feeling weak. She stumbled a bit, and Finn looked like he was going to have a heart attack, but she felt fine after flexing her leg muscles a bit to get some feeling back inside them. Madam Pomfrey handed her a new tube of ointment.

“Here - if it hurts too much at night, use some of this.” Madam Pomfrey turned to the boys, speaking much sharper now.

“And I don’t want to hear any sort of nonsense from the two of you.”

Finn looked wounded, but his friend didn’t look surprised.

“Poppy, you  _ wound _ me.”   
  


“I mean it. You’ve managed to land someone in my Wing every day since the year started.”

“It’s only been two days!”

“That’s why it’s appalling.”

Lily smiled weakly at Finn and turned to leave, along with his friend. That seemed to suddenly remind Finn of Lily.

“She might have a concussion!”

“Get out - all of you, before I bring out my broom again.”

The three seventh years hastily stumbled out of the Hospital Wing, tripping over each other, as Madam Pomfrey shut the doors behind them with a bang. Lily spied Finn and his friend wearing their satchels, and dejectedly wondered where hers was. She definitely lost it somewhere in the castle this morning. It was a nice satchel. She had The Weird Sisters badges on it and everything. Ivy always scoffed at them, but she liked their music.

Lily winced. It hurt to think about Ivy.

“So...where to now?”

##  Chapter 11

_ For Timothy -  _

_ Sometimes, when the sky seems cold and unforgiving, _

_ All you need is one person to make you smile. _

_ -f.r. _

Tim woke up with cold beads of sweat on his forehead. He wasn’t even sure if he was awake; his dream had blended into reality so seamlessly. He dreamed that Catherine Wilson was holding him under water, which was weird because he hadn't thought much about her since the school year started, what with his concussion and all.

She was just watching him struggle curiously, with her feet in the water, completely unperturbed by Tim. Tim lashed out at her feet, scratching them and digging his nails into them; but to no avail. Cathay’s steel grip remained. And when Tim looked up again, it wasn’t just Cathy anymore. It was almost the entire town; Cathy, her sister Krissy, Amber, Anna, Mr. Brocklehurst….and his sister. Black spots appeared in his vision. Tim relinquished his grip on Cathy’s foot and felt himself sinking…

Succumbing.

But when he opened his eyes again, he was back in the Common Room. He had no idea how or why he was there, or that it was just a dream. He sat up and looked around, and saw Elliot getting up and walking to the Common Room door. Tim couldn’t see his face, but he could see Josh’s forlorn expression.

Tim wriggled in his blanket(s), wanting to stop Elliot, or try to make him stay. After a minute of futile struggling, he decided it would be best to just sit there quietly and wait for Josh’s sadness to blow over. He didn’t want to trouble Josh to pick him up if he fell right after getting up.

Tim waited for a while, watching Josh’s expression go from malcontented to just...tired, as he scooped up the last of the wreckage caused by the auditions. Tim decided it would be best to make his move now. He’d talk to Josh later.

“Josh?”

“Hm?”

“D’you need any help?”

Josh looked at Tim, then back at the twisted Cornet he was holding in his hand, that was obviously the last of the instruments. Josh slanted his eyes at Tim, and spoke deliberately.

“No, no, it’s alright. I’ve got it all covered here.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.”

Tim stayed in his armchair for a little longer, trying to look sincere.

“Actually-”

“Bye Josh!” Tim leapt up and bunny-hopped out of the Common Room as fast as he could. Which really wasn’t that fast. So Josh just watched Timothy struggle to hop carefully without slipping, having long pauses in between each hop. He didn’t know it, but Tim had just made Josh feel a bit better.

Tim felt victorious for having escaped Josh’s clutches, and for being able to do something as strenuous as  _ hopping  _ without fainting. He was grinning to himself like an idiot that he didn’t stop hopping until he was right in front of the Potions Room. He steadied himself and twirled a few times, catching his blankets as they neatly twirled off his body. It was the most graceful he had been in two days.

He stuffed the blankets down the house-elf shaped flower vase. But instead of water splashing out, a thick, yellowish-green tar-like substance leaked out. Tim pulled his hands away in disgust, luckily avoiding it. It triggered something in his brain, like he had learned about it. Well, he was in seventh-year. There wasn’t much left to learn. Tim just shrugged and continued walking.

He roamed around aimlessly for a while, going up or down every other staircase, roaming around the deserted yet beautiful castle. It was one of his favorite pastimes, to explore the unknown. Some were unfamiliar, so he got stuck in a few trip steps but managed to haul himself out of them. He finally reached the Transfiguration classrooms, and navigated his way to the Great Hall.

Other than meal times, the Great Hall had food for students who missed a meal from 5 am to 9 pm everyday. Usually, only N.E.W.Ts and O.W.Ls students would utilise this privilege, but other students were also welcome to do so. Tim walked through the doors and bumped into Rob and Finn.

“Wha-hey! What are you guys doing here?”

“Getting a snack! Studying!” cried Rob. Rob was infamous for being the easiest to crack under nonexistent pressure. He was, by far, the worst liar in their group of friends. Finn calmly explained.

“We were going to get a snack, and then study. How _ ever _ ,” Finn looked meaningfully at Rob, who caught on. Rob realised he had to play along but wasn’t sure how, so he doubled over and groaned, clutching his stomach.

“Bad...stomach…”

Tim looked so concerned that Rob felt bad for tricking him. But his acting was really too over the top, it should have been obvious to Tim. But maybe it was the concussion, or that he just really didn’t care at this point, but Tim just nodded and walked in. He was about to comfortably slide into his usual seat but stopped, having spotted a girl that he recognised as Ivy from the train, pacing in the aisle between the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables.

Lily was in a dilemma, to say the least. She was fine up to the doors of the Great Hall and finally managed to get Finn and his friend (who just looked at her sympathetically when she bid him farewell as ‘Jordan’) off her back, insisting that she was perfectly fine walking to her seat all by herself.

But her seat was the same seat she used for breakfast that morning, along with every other meal. Even as she approached it, it was like she could feel the ghosts of the morning Hogwarts crowd still seated at the table, with her still facing Todd. It made her feel sick.

So she decided to turn back and go straight up without a meal (she’ll ask Melissa to nick some food for her during dinner - that is, if she’s still talking to her) but Jordan and Finn were busy talking to someone else. 

Lily stared at his vaguely familiar face. His face itself seemed ordinary, but something about the way his fringe sat neatly on his forehead reminded Lily of someone. The boy from the train. The one who grabbed her by the  _ neck _ . Lily tried to analyse him as much as he could. Somewhat neatly dressed, a polite-looking face...all in all, the epitome of ordinary.

The boy broke off from the pair, looking decidedly confused but not really concerned enough, and Lily looked back at Finn and Jordan. To her dismay, Jordan was crying something awful and was being half-carried out by Finn. Lily hoped he wasn’t in too much pain, but at the same time was annoyed that she had lost her ticket out of here.

She turned to leave, sifting through possible locations of her satchel, when her eyes fell on the boy. He was standing right behind a seat and was staring at her with shifting eyes, probably because she looked so agitated.

Lily huffed and tried to think quickly. On one hand, she didn’t want to eat alone and needed someone to preoccupy her so that she didn’t dwell too much on the memories of the morning. On the other hand, she wasn’t too sure if Melissa would forgive her this readily and Lily was hungry  _ now _ . Her eyes rested on the boy, who was still watching her apprehensively.

Lily was sorely tempted to stay and eat with him. He seemed like a nice boy, a gentleman. And he didn’t know much about her, so she could even talk to him freely about herself since he didn’t have any preconceived notions or judgement of her. Yes, he did look like a good listener. Besides, he was friends with Finn, so he must be something like him.

But then again, if Finn was friends with Jordan, Lily wasn’t sure how much she wanted to reveal to him.

Someone walked through the doors. Lily could see that it was Todd through her peripheral vision, his Hufflepuff tie gleaming, for once.. She panicked and unceremoniously but inconspicuously ducked under the Ravenclaw and emerged into the aisle between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin table. She hastily slipped into the seat opposite the boy and yanked at him to make him sit down too.

Lily lifted one of the gold spoons next to her goblet and watched Todd’s distorted reflection on the back of it. He was sitting down and looked ready to tuck into a hearty meal. Lily groaned inwardly; she was hoping Todd might just pick up a snack and leave. He usually had a very sound eating schedule. Lily bitterly thought that this change might be because of Hilda.

She tore her gaze from the spoon and set it down sharply. Spitefully. She raised her gaze to look at the boy, who was looking alarmed and nervous.

Tim was in a fix. A terrible fix. A horrendous fix that he had no hope of wriggling out of alone, but none of his friends were here to help him. Even if they were, he couldn’t exactly communicate his problem to his friends right in front of her. It was the girl from the Hogwarts Express. The one whose neck he tried to grab, and later met in the compartment, luckily with his face covered so she didn’t recognise him. Tim dearly hoped her memory would fail her, and that he would just remain as another familiar-looking face.

“ _ What? _ ”

“N-nothing.”

Lily realised she must be looking like a bit of a mad woman. Ducking under tables, pulling him into chairs and slamming down spoons for no apparent reason. Lily tried to smile and forced herself to relax and have some semblance of sanity.

“Sorry about that. That was just...someone I didn’t want to see.”

Tim leaned a bit to the left and saw who Lily was talking about. He looked at Lily strangely again, which confused her, but seemed to understand what she was talking about.

“No, I get it. I don’t particularly want to see him either.”

Lily found this a bit strange, but figured he must be one of those lightweight Slytherins that were still scared or suspicious of Gryffindors. Their food was already forming their plates - reheated leftovers of lunch, kidney pie and sandwiches. Tim picked us a fork and started eating.

Lily was relieved that he didn’t question her sitting with him, and so decided not to press his odd comment. She started eating too, thinking of ways to strike up friendly conversation to ease the awkward silence in between them, without antagonising him. Tim was mainly focused on his meal but Lily seized the opportunity when Tim looked up after a few minutes.

“So, how was the first day of school for you?”

Tim froze, mid-chew. He could see the worry in ‘Ivy’s’ eyes, so he slowly continued chewing his mouthful and swallowed before speaking, carefully crafting his response.

“Good, good. First day back. How was  _ your _ first day of school for you?”

Okay, that plan backfired spectacularly, Lily thought. She didn’t want to reveal that she had missed the entire first day of school. It would lead to awkward questions and uncomfortable confessions. So Lily just played along.

“Oh, really...fun. Loads of homework, though.”

Tim nodded and gave a strained smile, his grip tightening on his cutlery. He was internally panicking. Just how much did he miss on the first day of school?? Finn didn’t mention anything about loads of homework on the  _ first _ day of school. Then again, he did seem quite distracted.

“Wait, what subjects do you take?” Tim realised that just because  _ she _ had a lot of homework, that didn’t mean he did. Lily looked a bit surprised by the question but obliged.

“Arithmancy, Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures.”

“Oh.” Tim felt relieved; the only subject they had in common was Care for Magical Creatures. He was also impressed; Ivy had to be a smart girl to voluntarily take Arithmancy  _ and _ Ancient Runes, let alone studying them at N.E.W.Ts level.

“Well, there can’t be much homework for Care of Magical Creatures, right?” Tim joked. His smile faltered when he saw a flicker of bitterness in Lily’s eyes. But it disappeared so quickly that Tim wondered if he had just imagined it in the dim lighting. Lily gave him a dazzling smile.

“Oh, of course not. That would be ridiculous.”

Still, Lily stabbed her kidney pie with more force than Tim would have felt comfortable with. He uneasily continued eating, dissecting what he said, wondering if he had accidentally offended her. He had a knack for doing things like that.

“What about you? What do you take?” Tim was a bit perplexed by what Lily was saying, but soon understood. Lily stopped eating and pointed his fork at him as she rattled off subjects.

“I haven’t seen you in Arithmancy, Ancient Runes or Care of Magical Creatures, but you might be in the second group for Care of Magical Creatures. So what else do you take? Divination? Muggle Studies?” She paused, scrutinising him closely. Tim squirmed and resisted the urge to lean back.

“What did you say your name was again?”

“Uh...Timothy. Timothy Wisteria.”

She shook her head and broke her intense gaze. Timothy relaxed.

“Nope. Don’t recognise you or your name. Muggleborn?”

“Half-blood.” Tim was reminded of the afternoon’s tragedy, and couldn’t stop himself from adding, “Not that it matters.”

Lily stopped mid-chew, and looked amused in a way that Tim found belittling, which only annoyed him further.

“‘Course it doesn’t matter. I was just trying to find out if you took Muggle Studies.” She crossed her legs, clearly warming up to the conversation. “So, which of your parents is magical?”

“Mum’s half-blood, Dad’s a muggle.”

Lily’s eyes were bright with interest. “Oh, that must have been  _ fascinating _ . When did your mother tell your dad? Before they got married? After? Of course, he must know by now, there’s no way to excuse you being away for  _ eight months  _ a year-”

“Do you-” interrupted Tim, highly irritated at this point. “- think about what comes out of your mouth or do you just say what’s on your mind?”   
  
Lily looked taken aback, no longer nearly as chatty as she was a few minutes ago. She was flustered, and a lot more hesitant to speak now, flushing under Tim’s mocking look. She did look genuinely sorry for going off.

“Er - was it something I said?”

Timothy stared at Lily for ten, long seconds. Lily was clearly uncomfortable, and continued eating halfway through. Tim didn’t know whether or not to believe her. Was she so incredibly daft or completely devoid of social skills to converse politely? They hadn’t even talked for five minutes and she was already roaming sensitive territory.

Lily put her fork down, looking extremely apologetic.

“...I’ve put my foot in it, haven’t I?” She sighed and distractedly swept her hair over her right shoulder. “I’m...sorry. Really, I am. I have a knack for doing all the wrong things, at the wrong time. It’s just-” here, Lily looked like she could barely repress herself “-all my friends, or almost all, are pureblood or half-bloods, but really more like three-quarters-bloods.  _ Actual _ half-bloods like you...you’re like myths, aren’t you? Not that -”

Lily groaned and pounded her forehead lightly with her right fist, muttering under her breath, all while Tim watched on.

“I’ll shut up now.”

They continued eating in silence after that. Tim noticed that Lily’s total demeanour had changed. She was moodily picking at a sandwich now, shredding the crust and piling all of it up. Tim set down his fork and spoke up.

“Why?”

Lily raised her eyes to Tim’s, slightly raising her eyebrows.

“Why what?”

“You’ve been picking at your food for a really long time. You’re...procrastinating.”

“I am  _ not _ .”

“My sister does the exact same thing whenever she has to go around to the Wilsons with a box of cookies on special occasions.”

“The...Wilsons?”

“Er, basically it’s something she likes to avoid. And,” Tim spoke softly and breathlessly here, scared of saying the wrong thing.

“You don’t know me, so if you need to vent, about anything...I’m here till I’m done with my pie.”

Lily stared at Tim solidly, which unnerved him greatly. It felt like she was reading his mind with her intense gaze, which wasn’t impossible. Tim hastily took a sip of pumpkin juice, dabbing at his chin with his handkerchief when a bit of it dribbled.

When Tim put down his goblet, Lily spoke, which surprised Tim because he was sure no one in their right mind would confide in him after that embarrassing display.

“I had a fight with my roommates this morning and now I have to go... _ face  _ them, and I don’t want to. I’ve had a terrible day-” Lily had started to speak much more rapidly now that she was warming up. “-and as childish as it seems, I don’t  _ want  _ to face the consequences of my actions today. Not right now. Maybe next Tuesday. But I can’t do that. And I lost my satchel, my  _ beautiful, _ brown satchel decorated with my collection of Weird Sisters badges. And now I’ll probably never see it again because I lost it while wandering the endless halls of Hogwarts.”

Tim listened carefully, taking in Lily’s anger and frustration. Lily looked up at him at the end of her tirade, and was surprised to see him listening so attentively, like he genuinely cared about what was troubling her and wasn’t just acting in the role of a courteous stranger. It felt odd, being able to vent to someone other than her friends. Todd was never this caring. Lily firmly pushed him out of her mind. She hadn’t thought about him since...that morning. Oh no. Disjointed memories were flooding back. No no no, she couldn’t do this now. She scrambled to stop her brain,  _ turn it off _ , while trying to give a weak smile to Tim who was looking extremely worried. Lily broke their eye contact, gripping her fork tightly in her right hand, making her knuckles turn white as she fought the tears springing to her eyes.

Lily’s breath caught when she saw her white knuckles, blurry from the tears, knowing that they were a dead giveaway to Tim that something was very wrong. She stared at her fingers, willing her grip to slacken, which only became tighter. To her surprise, she saw the hazy image of fingers gently approaching her right wrist to lift a small charm from a bracelet that was peeking out from under her shirt sleeve. His fingers were agonisingly close to her skin, but never even brushed her once. When he spoke, his voice was very soft. Not exactly smooth or soothing, but soft and caring, still having the slight pitch variations that Tim naturally had when talking.

“Is that an aquamarine stone? Wow, that’s really pretty. I mean, look at the cut. That’s a really rare find. My sister’s got a whole collection of these, and none of them’s half as pretty as yours. Don’t tell her I said that, though.”

As Tim spoke, Lily managed to calm down. The tears in her eyes still fell, but she didn’t feel ashamed of them like she usually did. Her mind was elsewhere, peaceful, relaxing in one of the few serene childhood memories Lily had. She was only sniffling a bit, and even managed a laugh at Tim’s last sentence. She continued watching Tim twirl the gem around, making it twinkle mischievously in the golden rays of the setting sun. Once her breathing had evened out, she pulled her hand away, and Tim pulled away his, straightening up and continuing to eat like nothing had happened, speaking in his normal voice.

“I get what it’s like. Saying the wrong thing. I do that, too. More times than I can count.” Tim’s voice brightened as he spoke since he watched Lily’s spirits lifting limply, saying the last bit perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. Lily raised her eyebrows and gave a small smile to her food, one that Tim couldn’t see. Tim leaned in and spoke in a whisper.

“I’ll forgive you if you forgive me for bringing up Care of Magical Creatures.”

Lily’s jaw was set as she continued picking at her food. She was no longer apologetic or deflated, but instead seemed to be filled with anger. Not the explosive one that bubbles over, but the quiet kind that gets etched only through years of resentment and hurt.

“I can’t interact with animals. I just can’t.” Lily didn’t realise she was speaking, but her mouth and started working before her brain could catch up, or register what she was saying. “I hate the subject. I don’t fucking understand the ‘magical creatures,’ okay? They’re always so hostile and completely unwilling to listen to me.”

“If you hate it so much, why did you pick it as an elective?”   
  


“Because...it wasn’t this bad in third year.”

“...okay. So why don’t you drop it? Heck, you’re taking this at N.E.W.Ts Level. That isn’t an easy thing to do if you hate it so much.”

Lily exhaled, finishing up the last of her food. Tim’s plate was still half-full.

“Okay, I lied. It always was this bad. I could never get it in first and second year, and was practically counting down the days till I could drop it. I remember-” Tim could see the sorrow and hurt in Lily’s distant eyes, as she re-lived a memory - “I remember the day of what I thought was my last Care for Magical Creatures lesson. I ran straight up to Hagrid and told him loudly that I wasn’t taking it ever again.” Tim sucked in a breath of air and even Lily grimaced unpleasantly.

“I know, that was a horrid thing to do. But Hagrid didn’t even get angry. He just...smiled, at me, and asked me if I wanted to take a souvenir from his cabin, or a pet from one of the lessons, to remember my time as a student of Care for Magical Creatures.” Lily looked disbelieving even as she uttered those words, as if she still didn’t believe them any more than the day she heard them. Tim just peered amusedly at her as he took a draught from his goblet, having no trouble believing that. That was just the kind of person Hagrid was. Tim had a feeling that Lily’s current shocked and skeptical expression was akin to her reaction that day.

“I mean, who does that?”

“Hagrid-”

“He didn’t get angry  _ at all _ . Maybe he was expressing his anger passive-aggressively-

“I don’t think  _ Hagrid _ -”

“‘Would you like a memento?’ No, I  _ wouldn’t _ like a fucking momento! I’ve hated this god-awful subject-”

“Ivy-”

“It’s preposterous, really-”

“ _ Ivy! _ ”

Lily stopped, looking around distractedly.

“Where?”

“What do you mean, where?”

“Where’s Ivy?”

“You’re...Ivy.” But even as Tim said those words, he realised he had been fooled. By himself, no less. That day on the train...he just assumed her name was Ivy. That was one of the names floating around in the compartment that Tim had just happened to remember in his drowsy state. Wait, didn’t she confirm it?

“Hang on. You said your name was Ivy that day on the train.”

Lily just stared at Tim like he was crazy. “The train? If you’re talking about the neck-grabbing thing you pulled on the Hogwarts Express-”

“-I am-” Tim muttered embarrassedly, feeling humiliated that she remembered who he was.

“Then you are most certainly mistaken. After our little run-in, I left immediately,  _ without _ revealing my name. You may know me from somewhere else, but I assure you it is most certainly not-”

“You may not have directly said your name was Ivy, but you  _ implied  _ it. And you can deny that all you want, but I was there, you know.”

Tim froze in horror, hoping against hope that he hadn’t said what he thought he just said. It was agonising - Tim could almost see the cogs turning in the girl’s forehead, making the connections, realising who he was...without being able to take back anything he said.

“ _ You _ !”

“Me!” Tim tried to crack a joke, or make the entire situation hilarious or light-hearted, but failed.

“You board the train by grabbing me around the neck, then have the audacity to hold a civil conversation with me hours later, all wrapped up in blankets? Were you really that cold, or was it just to hide your identity?”

Tim shook his head vehemently. This was exactly what Tim was afraid of. He didn’t like confrontations. And here he was, stuck in one with a particularly hot-headed Ravenclaw girl.

“No, I did recognise you that day-”

Tim knew from the incredulous look in her eyes that it was the wrong thing to say. That was exactly what set her off again, ranting about dishonesty and cowardice. When her rant started to dwindle, she neatly arranged her cutlery on her plate.

“I don’t have the time or energy for this. I probably have loads of work to do since I missed all my lessons today-”

“Wait, didn’t you say you got a lot of homework today?”

Lily froze, the angry spark in her eyes fading as her face slackened. She glanced at Tim for a split-second and immediately looked away, telling Tim all that he needed to know. Now it was his turn to act injured.

“You lied too? Oh, next you’ll be telling me your name  _ isn’t _ Ivy.”

Lily looked at him strangely, the barest hint of a smile on her face. Tim finished up the last bites of his meal and looked up to see Lily still staring with that odd expression.

“What?”

Lily’s smile grew ever-so-slightly, while she rubbed the joints in her fingers. She looked slightly nervous, and it was driving Tim mad not knowing.

“ _ What? _ ”

“...it’s not.”

Tim was still completely in the dark as to why Lily was acting that way.

“What’s not?”

“Ivy.” Lily quickly smoothed her hair down and stuck out her right hand.

“Hi, I’m Lily Rowen. Not Ivy. Ivy is...was...one of my best friends.”

Tim wasn’t exactly annoyed that Lily had faked her name. More confused, if anything. That was such an odd thing to do, and Tim couldn’t figure out why she’d want to do that.

“Why?”

Lily lowered her hand and looked apologetic.

“I- you seemed nice, and I thought you might have heard some...upsetting things about me. About Lily Rowen.”

Tim arched his right eyebrow exaggeratedly, pretending to think hard. “Hmm...Lily Rowen,  _ Li _ ly Ro _ wen _ ...nope, doesn’t ring a bell.” Tim folded his arms on the table, uncrossing his ankles.

“So do enlighten me. What devious sin have you committed to make you the talk of Hogwarts?”

Lily rolled her eyes at Tim’s dramatics. She would have expected something like this from Finn. Maybe Finn rubbed off on him.

“I just broke up with someone influential, that’s all.”

“Who?”

Lily’s face burned crimson as she cringed; it still stung to say his name out loud. Tim leaned forward, bracing himself for the worst.

“Todd Macmillian.”

Tim cackled, which probably wasn’t the best thing to do so close to Lily’s face. She backed away, alarmed, and Tim leaned away too, clearing his throat as he tried to stifle his laughter.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure the breakup was painful, but I just have to say; you could not have dumped him fast enough.”

Lily looked indignant. “Really?”

“Yeah; he’s such an insecure lightweight.”

“That ‘insecure lightweight’ was my  _ boyfriend _ five months ago.”

“The, let me be the first to offer my congratulations.”

Lily narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “If you hate him so much, why do you want to avoid him.”

Tim looked confused. “I don’t want to avoid him. What gave you the idea?”

Lily turned back to look at the Hufflepuff table, but it was deserted. She whipped her head back and forth, stammering.

“I-you-he was here! When we sat down-

“-you mean forcing me into my seat-”

“-you said you ‘didn’t want to see him too,’ or something like that.”

The look on Tim’s face was priceless. His mouth slightly open, face twisted in confusion. 

“That- that was Elliot. Elliot...something, I’m not sure.”

“Elliot  _ Goyle _ is a perfectly friendly person.”

“I know he is, that’s why my roommate’s in  _ love _ with him.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s the way he  _ looks _ at him-”

“No, I mean, he came out to  _ you _ ?”

Tim stared at Lily, who raised her eyebrows defiantly at Tim. As Tim continued looking stunned, the defiant look melted off her face, being replaced with one of worry.

“I can’t believe- I thought you knew-”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

Lily leaned back, looking relieved, uncrossing her ankles. As she looked around, she realised that the evening sun was gone and that the Great Hall was lit dimly with lanterns; the Enchanted Ceiling twinkling down on them from up above. Lily felt startled as she was dragged back to reality, realising the time. She hurriedly tried to get up, wincing as her shins hit the wooden table. Tim watched her concernedly as she struggled to gather herself.

“What’s wrong? Are you late for something?”

“Uh-yeah-not really, but...my roommates must be waiting for me.”

Lily pretended she was busy fixing her bracelet when in reality, she was really trying to let the flame in her cheeks die down. She could feel Tim’s approval of her decision, so it was no surprise to her when she looked up to see him smiling genially at her. Tim tilted his head to the side ever-so-slightly, asking Lily one last question.

“Wait, why’d you confide in me? I wasn’t expecting you to. Not that I didn’t want you to.” Tim bit his tongue, cursing his complete lack of tact, not for the first time. Luckily, Lily didn’t seem to notice, and she answered placidly.

“Well, it was like you said. You were just...you, with no strings attached.”

Tim was acutely aware of how hard his heart was thumping. He could feel his pulse reverberating in his bones and was sure that Lily could hear it too.

“...and maybe because you’ve got an embroidered handkerchief.” 

Lily gave Tim a quirky smile as she gracefully extracted herself from the bench, walking out of the Great Hall with significantly more spring in her step than when she entered. Tim closed his mouth, which he realised was slightly open in shock, and glanced at the crumpled handkerchief, dotted with Pumpkin juice stains, which was most definitely embroidered.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

Lily felt nervous all the way to her dorm. She felt nervous as walked out of the Great Hall. She felt nervous as she climbed up familiar staircases, instinctively dodging trick steps. She felt nervous as she answered the riddle, but luckily managed to answer it correctly. She felt nervous as she walked to the base of the staircase to the girl’s dormitory. She felt nervous as she stood outside the door, not knowing what to expect. Lily didn’t like not knowing.

She had walked a familiar route, one that she had taken so many times that she didn’t even need to think about where she was going. It was a comfortable route, one with many cheerful and happy memories of her trudging to bed after dinner, with Ivy and Melissa by her side. The route was the same today, as it was yesterday, as it was the week before that, as it was the years before that. Why then did Lily feel like an intruder in her own home?

Maybe it was because Ivy and Melissa weren’t by her side literally. Lily didn’t even know if they would still be by her side figuratively. All the way here, she dwelled on the possible outcomes of what she could expect to face here. Lily had come up 27 different outcomes, each equally unlikely. She only had a plan of action for 14 of them. Lily stood and stared at the royal blue door, weathered from years of use, and Lily wondered how many students it had seen, oscillating at the doorway of their dorms, not sure if they could no longer be welcome there. It was pure speculation, riddled with romantic whimsy, but Lily was a romantic at heart.

Lily was starting to learn that some things couldn’t be solved with cold, hard logic.

After debating with herself a bit, Lily and her mind reached a consensus that Lily would merely peek inside the dorm and evaluate the situation. If the atmosphere was hostile, which had a 99 percent chance of occurring, Lily would retreat before anyone would even know that she was at the door, and roam Hogwarts looking for Finn to house her for the night, or beg Madam Pomfrey to let her stay in the Hospital Wing just for a night. She wanted,  _ needed _ , to avoid Finn’s friend Tim at all costs.

Of course, there was that one percent chance that it would be a friendly atmosphere, at which point Lily would have run out of reasons to stay away any longer and be forced to join them. But really, the notion was so silly that Lily was only considering it in the name of logic.

As it was plain to see from Lily’s state of mind, she was engrossed in these thoughts, and overlooked one tiny detail that usually never mattered. Until now. In this case, it was extremely volatile. It really is a pity that Lily didn’t remember that their dormitory door, like many others, had a squeak.

Of course, she was immediately reminded of this face as she lightly placed her hand on the door and pushed it gently, only for the door to give a loud, long-suffering squeak. As soon as the squeak started, Lily spun on her heel and grasped the railing, about to run off. But something made her pause. Something made her freeze with her foot dangling over the next step, as if she was waiting for something.

Lily looked into the dorm through the crack of the door, which wasn’t much brighter than the inky-dark dorm staircase. The beds were dimly lit with a few lanterns, the orange light giving a nightmarish field. Suddenly, the light from the crack vanished, because it was being blocked by someone. Lily couldn’t make out who the person was from their silhouette. But when she felt fingers brush her shoulder, she instinctively took two steps forward and wrapped her arms around them.

It was Ivy. Lily could feel her rough curls tickling her cheek, which gleamed like copper when she cracked her eyes open. Lily wasn’t sure if Ivy was always this bony or if they’d never hugged this tightly before. Ivy’s grip tightened before she finally let go, holding Lily at arm’s length. Ivy’s eyes were rheumy as she tried to form a smile, but her face twisted into a sob. Lily hugged her close, soothing Ivy’s hiccuping sobs.

Lily wasn’t sure how long they stayed there, swaying gently, Ivy gripping her like she never wanted to let go. Lily saw Melissa sitting further inside the room, who looked like she was in a better state than Ivy, but her face was as ghostly as death. Lily knew from experience that Melissa was probably just as hurt as Ivy on the inside. She was never one to display emotion.

Slowly, Lily managed to disentangle herself from Ivy and led her to the extra bed in their dormitory. Ivy dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief procured by Melissa, and began talking in a shaky voice. All three girls were huddled together in a heap on the bed, murmuring softly.

“Just so you know...I don’t think you’re an experiment. And I’d never tinker with you. I just...get pushy sometimes.”

“No, I get it. You just really care about me. You care about me so much that you’d rather we fight than my life be a mess.”   
  
“Yeah, given that you still had one. A life.”

There was a jelly-like silence in the room, thick with the girls’ unsaid thoughts. The one thing they had been delicately skirting around was now confronting them. Ivy buried her face into the pillow, when Melissa finally took a deep breath and began.

“We thought we’d never see you again. Ivy was...decaying with grief. It’s just-” there was the rustling of some sheets as all three girls turned to lie on their backs, talking to the ceiling, still side by side. “-we never even suspected. It was...such a shock. We had no idea you were feeling this way.”

Lily wondered when was the last time she felt without thinking. As painful as it was, Lily forced herself to think back to that morning. It wasn’t easy for her friends either, but here they were, sticking together when things got tough. It was the least Lily could do.

“I...don’t know. I  _ didn’t  _ think about it...much. And not that seriously. It was just a passing thought, and only on particularly bad days. This morning, I think it all just...accumulated.”

Ivy was still silently shaking, her right hand holding the handkerchief to her mouth to stifle her cries. Melissa opened her mouth to continue but stopped when Ivy managed to croak out something.

“Finn told us where he found you. You were sitting so close to the edge. Why didn’t you...do it?”

Lily thought for a while, and then extracted her arms with some difficulty to wrap it around both her friends, Melissa snuggling with relief while Ivy still clung to her desperately.

“Simple. I remembered I had you.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------

Tim was back in the Hospital Wing, for the second time since he arrived at Hogwarts. Madam Pomfrey was using her wand to alternately shine a light into Tim’s eyes, with Rob anxiously hovering in the background. Rob proved to be a bit of a distraction that caused Madam Pomfrey to accidentally jab one of Timothy’s eyes (she fixed it in a jiffy) so now he was sulkily sitting next to Finn on one of the wooden stools.

“How is he, Poppy?”

Madam Pomfrey straightened up and put away her wand, walking over to her desk at the front of her office, the three boys trailing behind her. She was writing quickly on a pink slip, which she then handed to Finn.

“Good recovery. In fact, Mr. Wisteria is in such an excellent state of health that I am giving him permission to return to lessons tomorrow.”

“Er, Madam Pomfrey, maybe it would be better if I just had one more day-”

“Nonsense. It’s Friday, so you’ll have the entire weekend to recuperate if you really are still so delicate. However, I, a trained healing professional, deem you fit to return to lessons, so I shall let Professor McGonagall know to expect you in Double Transfiguration tomorrow morning.”

She looked sharply at Tim when he poorly concealed a groan, who straightened his posture nervously. Her sharp gaze softened and she spoke without her normal bite.

“This is your final year. As odd as the notion seems now, you’re going to miss this. The lessons, the extra-curriculars, the teachers...all of it. I myself couldn’t even bear to leave.”

She snapped out of her gentle reverie and stood up briskly, causing all three boys to give a start. She walked them out the door with urgency, urging them to hurry on. Finn and Rob turned to walk back to the Slytherin common room, but Tim paused.

“You guys go ahead. I...have something to do. Don’t wait up for me.”

Saying so, Tim walked in the opposite direction. Most lamps were put out by now, and soon Tim was in a pitch-black hallway. He pulled out his wand and lit it, carefully searching the floors for the twinkle of a badge. Or multiple badges. Weird Sisters badges on a well-loved brown satchel.


	12. Dinner With a Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two unlikely people share a dinner, laughter and thoughts. Tim doesn't know why he's so struck by her.

**Chapter 11: Dinner With a Stranger**

_ For Timothy -  _

_ Sometimes, when the sky seems cold and unforgiving, _

_ All you need is one person to make you smile. _

_ -f.r. _

Tim woke up with cold beads of sweat on his forehead. He wasn’t even sure if he was awake; his dream had blended into reality so seamlessly. He dreamed that Catherine Wilson was holding him under water, which was weird because he hadn't thought much about her since the school year started, what with his concussion and all.

She was just watching him struggle curiously, with her feet in the water, completely unperturbed by Tim. Tim lashed out at her feet, scratching them and digging his nails into them; but to no avail. Cathay’s steel grip remained. And when Tim looked up again, it wasn’t just Cathy anymore. It was almost the entire town; Cathy, her sister Krissy, Amber, Anna, Mr. Brocklehurst….and his sister. Black spots appeared in his vision. Tim relinquished his grip on Cathy’s foot and felt himself sinking…

Succumbing.

But when he opened his eyes again, he was back in the Common Room. He had no idea how or why he was there, or that it was just a dream. He sat up and looked around, and saw Elliot getting up and walking to the Common Room door. Tim couldn’t see his face, but he could see Josh’s forlorn expression.

Tim wriggled in his blanket(s), wanting to stop Elliot, or try to make him stay. After a minute of futile struggling, he decided it would be best to just sit there quietly and wait for Josh’s sadness to blow over. He didn’t want to trouble Josh to pick him up if he fell right after getting up.

Tim waited for a while, watching Josh’s expression go from malcontented to just...tired, as he scooped up the last of the wreckage caused by the auditions. Tim decided it would be best to make his move now. He’d talk to Josh later.

“Josh?”

“Hm?”

“D’you need any help?”

Josh looked at Tim, then back at the twisted Cornet he was holding in his hand, that was obviously the last of the instruments. Josh slanted his eyes at Tim, and spoke deliberately.

“No, no, it’s alright. I’ve got it all covered here.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.”

Tim stayed in his armchair for a little longer, trying to look sincere.

“Actually-”

“Bye Josh!” Tim leapt up and bunny-hopped out of the Common Room as fast as he could. Which really wasn’t that fast. So Josh just watched Timothy struggle to hop carefully without slipping, having long pauses in between each hop. He didn’t know it, but Tim had just made Josh feel a bit better.

Tim felt victorious for having escaped Josh’s clutches, and for being able to do something as strenuous as  _ hopping  _ without fainting. He was grinning to himself like an idiot that he didn’t stop hopping until he was right in front of the Potions Room. He steadied himself and twirled a few times, catching his blankets as they neatly twirled off his body. It was the most graceful he had been in two days.

He stuffed the blankets down the house-elf shaped flower vase. But instead of water splashing out, a thick, yellowish-green tar-like substance leaked out. Tim pulled his hands away in disgust, luckily avoiding it. It triggered something in his brain, like he had learned about it. Well, he was in seventh-year. There wasn’t much left to learn. Tim just shrugged and continued walking.

He roamed around aimlessly for a while, going up or down every other staircase, roaming around the deserted yet beautiful castle. It was one of his favorite pastimes, to explore the unknown. Some were unfamiliar, so he got stuck in a few trip steps but managed to haul himself out of them. He finally reached the Transfiguration classrooms, and navigated his way to the Great Hall.

Other than meal times, the Great Hall had food for students who missed a meal from 5 am to 9 pm everyday. Usually, only N.E.W.Ts and O.W.Ls students would utilise this privilege, but other students were also welcome to do so. Tim walked through the doors and bumped into Rob and Finn.

“Wha-hey! What are you guys doing here?”

“Getting a snack! Studying!” cried Rob. Rob was infamous for being the easiest to crack under nonexistent pressure. He was, by far, the worst liar in their group of friends. Finn calmly explained.

“We were going to get a snack, and then study. How _ ever _ ,” Finn looked meaningfully at Rob, who caught on. Rob realised he had to play along but wasn’t sure how, so he doubled over and groaned, clutching his stomach.

“Bad...stomach…”

Tim looked so concerned that Rob felt bad for tricking him. But his acting was really too over the top, it should have been obvious to Tim. But maybe it was the concussion, or that he just really didn’t care at this point, but Tim just nodded and walked in. He was about to comfortably slide into his usual seat but stopped, having spotted a girl that he recognised as Ivy from the train, pacing in the aisle between the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables.

Lily was in a dilemma, to say the least. She was fine up to the doors of the Great Hall and finally managed to get Finn and his friend (who just looked at her sympathetically when she bid him farewell as ‘Jordan’) off her back, insisting that she was perfectly fine walking to her seat all by herself.

But her seat was the same seat she used for breakfast that morning, along with every other meal. Even as she approached it, it was like she could feel the ghosts of the morning Hogwarts crowd still seated at the table, with her still facing Todd. It made her feel sick.

So she decided to turn back and go straight up without a meal (she’ll ask Melissa to nick some food for her during dinner - that is, if she’s still talking to her) but Jordan and Finn were busy talking to someone else. 

Lily stared at his vaguely familiar face. His face itself seemed ordinary, but something about the way his fringe sat neatly on his forehead reminded Lily of someone. The boy from the train. The one who grabbed her by the  _ neck _ . Lily tried to analyse him as much as he could. Somewhat neatly dressed, a polite-looking face...all in all, the epitome of ordinary.

The boy broke off from the pair, looking decidedly confused but not really concerned enough, and Lily looked back at Finn and Jordan. To her dismay, Jordan was crying something awful and was being half-carried out by Finn. Lily hoped he wasn’t in too much pain, but at the same time was annoyed that she had lost her ticket out of here.

She turned to leave, sifting through possible locations of her satchel, when her eyes fell on the boy. He was standing right behind a seat and was staring at her with shifting eyes, probably because she looked so agitated.

Lily huffed and tried to think quickly. On one hand, she didn’t want to eat alone and needed someone to preoccupy her so that she didn’t dwell too much on the memories of the morning. On the other hand, she wasn’t too sure if Melissa would forgive her this readily and Lily was hungry  _ now _ . Her eyes rested on the boy, who was still watching her apprehensively.

Lily was sorely tempted to stay and eat with him. He seemed like a nice boy, a gentleman. And he didn’t know much about her, so she could even talk to him freely about herself since he didn’t have any preconceived notions or judgement of her. Yes, he did look like a good listener. Besides, he was friends with Finn, so he must be something like him.

But then again, if Finn was friends with Jordan, Lily wasn’t sure how much she wanted to reveal to him.

Someone walked through the doors. Lily could see that it was Todd through her peripheral vision, his Hufflepuff tie gleaming, for once.. She panicked and unceremoniously but inconspicuously ducked under the Ravenclaw and emerged into the aisle between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin table. She hastily slipped into the seat opposite the boy and yanked at him to make him sit down too.

Lily lifted one of the gold spoons next to her goblet and watched Todd’s distorted reflection on the back of it. He was sitting down and looked ready to tuck into a hearty meal. Lily groaned inwardly; she was hoping Todd might just pick up a snack and leave. He usually had a very sound eating schedule. Lily bitterly thought that this change might be because of Hilda.

She tore her gaze from the spoon and set it down sharply. Spitefully. She raised her gaze to look at the boy, who was looking alarmed and nervous.

Tim was in a fix. A terrible fix. A horrendous fix that he had no hope of wriggling out of alone, but none of his friends were here to help him. Even if they were, he couldn’t exactly communicate his problem to his friends right in front of her. It was the girl from the Hogwarts Express. The one whose neck he tried to grab, and later met in the compartment, luckily with his face covered so she didn’t recognise him. Tim dearly hoped her memory would fail her, and that he would just remain as another familiar-looking face.

“ _ What? _ ”

“N-nothing.”

Lily realised she must be looking like a bit of a mad woman. Ducking under tables, pulling him into chairs and slamming down spoons for no apparent reason. Lily tried to smile and forced herself to relax and have some semblance of sanity.

“Sorry about that. That was just...someone I didn’t want to see.”

Tim leaned a bit to the left and saw who Lily was talking about. He looked at Lily strangely again, which confused her, but seemed to understand what she was talking about.

“No, I get it. I don’t particularly want to see him either.”

Lily found this a bit strange, but figured he must be one of those lightweight Slytherins that were still scared or suspicious of Gryffindors. Their food was already forming their plates - reheated leftovers of lunch, kidney pie and sandwiches. Tim picked us a fork and started eating.

Lily was relieved that he didn’t question her sitting with him, and so decided not to press his odd comment. She started eating too, thinking of ways to strike up friendly conversation to ease the awkward silence in between them, without antagonising him. Tim was mainly focused on his meal but Lily seized the opportunity when Tim looked up after a few minutes.

“So, how was the first day of school for you?”

Tim froze, mid-chew. He could see the worry in ‘Ivy’s’ eyes, so he slowly continued chewing his mouthful and swallowed before speaking, carefully crafting his response.

“Good, good. First day back. How was  _ your _ first day of school for you?”

Okay, that plan backfired spectacularly, Lily thought. She didn’t want to reveal that she had missed the entire first day of school. It would lead to awkward questions and uncomfortable confessions. So Lily just played along.

“Oh, really...fun. Loads of homework, though.”

Tim nodded and gave a strained smile, his grip tightening on his cutlery. He was internally panicking. Just how much did he miss on the first day of school?? Finn didn’t mention anything about loads of homework on the  _ first _ day of school. Then again, he did seem quite distracted.

“Wait, what subjects do you take?” Tim realised that just because  _ she _ had a lot of homework, that didn’t mean he did. Lily looked a bit surprised by the question but obliged.

“Arithmancy, Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures.”

“Oh.” Tim felt relieved; the only subject they had in common was Care for Magical Creatures. He was also impressed; Ivy had to be a smart girl to voluntarily take Arithmancy  _ and _ Ancient Runes, let alone studying them at N.E.W.Ts level.

“Well, there can’t be much homework for Care of Magical Creatures, right?” Tim joked. His smile faltered when he saw a flicker of bitterness in Lily’s eyes. But it disappeared so quickly that Tim wondered if he had just imagined it in the dim lighting. Lily gave him a dazzling smile.

“Oh, of course not. That would be ridiculous.”

Still, Lily stabbed her kidney pie with more force than Tim would have felt comfortable with. He uneasily continued eating, dissecting what he said, wondering if he had accidentally offended her. He had a knack for doing things like that.

“What about you? What do you take?” Tim was a bit perplexed by what Lily was saying, but soon understood. Lily stopped eating and pointed his fork at him as she rattled off subjects.

“I haven’t seen you in Arithmancy, Ancient Runes or Care of Magical Creatures, but you might be in the second group for Care of Magical Creatures. So what else do you take? Divination? Muggle Studies?” She paused, scrutinising him closely. Tim squirmed and resisted the urge to lean back.

“What did you say your name was again?”

“Uh...Timothy. Timothy Wisteria.”

She shook her head and broke her intense gaze. Timothy relaxed.

“Nope. Don’t recognise you or your name. Muggleborn?”

“Half-blood.” Tim was reminded of the afternoon’s tragedy, and couldn’t stop himself from adding, “Not that it matters.”

Lily stopped mid-chew, and looked amused in a way that Tim found belittling, which only annoyed him further.

“‘Course it doesn’t matter. I was just trying to find out if you took Muggle Studies.” She crossed her legs, clearly warming up to the conversation. “So, which of your parents is magical?”

“Mum’s half-blood, Dad’s a muggle.”

Lily’s eyes were bright with interest. “Oh, that must have been  _ fascinating _ . When did your mother tell your dad? Before they got married? After? Of course, he must know by now, there’s no way to excuse you being away for  _ eight months  _ a year-”

“Do you-” interrupted Tim, highly irritated at this point. “- think about what comes out of your mouth or do you just say what’s on your mind?”   
  
Lily looked taken aback, no longer nearly as chatty as she was a few minutes ago. She was flustered, and a lot more hesitant to speak now, flushing under Tim’s mocking look. She did look genuinely sorry for going off.

“Er - was it something I said?”

Timothy stared at Lily for ten, long seconds. Lily was clearly uncomfortable, and continued eating halfway through. Tim didn’t know whether or not to believe her. Was she so incredibly daft or completely devoid of social skills to converse politely? They hadn’t even talked for five minutes and she was already roaming sensitive territory.

Lily put her fork down, looking extremely apologetic.

“...I’ve put my foot in it, haven’t I?” She sighed and distractedly swept her hair over her right shoulder. “I’m...sorry. Really, I am. I have a knack for doing all the wrong things, at the wrong time. It’s just-” here, Lily looked like she could barely repress herself “-all my friends, or almost all, are pureblood or half-bloods, but really more like three-quarters-bloods.  _ Actual _ half-bloods like you...you’re like myths, aren’t you? Not that -”

Lily groaned and pounded her forehead lightly with her right fist, muttering under her breath, all while Tim watched on.

“I’ll shut up now.”

They continued eating in silence after that. Tim noticed that Lily’s total demeanour had changed. She was moodily picking at a sandwich now, shredding the crust and piling all of it up. Tim set down his fork and spoke up.

“Why?”

Lily raised her eyes to Tim’s, slightly raising her eyebrows.

“Why what?”

“You’ve been picking at your food for a really long time. You’re...procrastinating.”

“I am  _ not _ .”

“My sister does the exact same thing whenever she has to go around to the Wilsons with a box of cookies on special occasions.”

“The...Wilsons?”

“Er, basically it’s something she likes to avoid. And,” Tim spoke softly and breathlessly here, scared of saying the wrong thing.

“You don’t know me, so if you need to vent, about anything...I’m here till I’m done with my pie.”

Lily stared at Tim solidly, which unnerved him greatly. It felt like she was reading his mind with her intense gaze, which wasn’t impossible. Tim hastily took a sip of pumpkin juice, dabbing at his chin with his handkerchief when a bit of it dribbled.

When Tim put down his goblet, Lily spoke, which surprised Tim because he was sure no one in their right mind would confide in him after that embarrassing display.

“I had a fight with my roommates this morning and now I have to go... _ face  _ them, and I don’t want to. I’ve had a terrible day-” Lily had started to speak much more rapidly now that she was warming up. “-and as childish as it seems, I don’t  _ want  _ to face the consequences of my actions today. Not right now. Maybe next Tuesday. But I can’t do that. And I lost my satchel, my  _ beautiful, _ brown satchel decorated with my collection of Weird Sisters badges. And now I’ll probably never see it again because I lost it while wandering the endless halls of Hogwarts.”

Tim listened carefully, taking in Lily’s anger and frustration. Lily looked up at him at the end of her tirade, and was surprised to see him listening so attentively, like he genuinely cared about what was troubling her and wasn’t just acting in the role of a courteous stranger. It felt odd, being able to vent to someone other than her friends. Todd was never this caring. Lily firmly pushed him out of her mind. She hadn’t thought about him since...that morning. Oh no. Disjointed memories were flooding back. No no no, she couldn’t do this now. She scrambled to stop her brain,  _ turn it off _ , while trying to give a weak smile to Tim who was looking extremely worried. Lily broke their eye contact, gripping her fork tightly in her right hand, making her knuckles turn white as she fought the tears springing to her eyes.

Lily’s breath caught when she saw her white knuckles, blurry from the tears, knowing that they were a dead giveaway to Tim that something was very wrong. She stared at her fingers, willing her grip to slacken, which only became tighter. To her surprise, she saw the hazy image of fingers gently approaching her right wrist to lift a small charm from a bracelet that was peeking out from under her shirt sleeve. His fingers were agonisingly close to her skin, but never even brushed her once. When he spoke, his voice was very soft. Not exactly smooth or soothing, but soft and caring, still having the slight pitch variations that Tim naturally had when talking.

“Is that an aquamarine stone? Wow, that’s really pretty. I mean, look at the cut. That’s a really rare find. My sister’s got a whole collection of these, and none of them’s half as pretty as yours. Don’t tell her I said that, though.”

As Tim spoke, Lily managed to calm down. The tears in her eyes still fell, but she didn’t feel ashamed of them like she usually did. Her mind was elsewhere, peaceful, relaxing in one of the few serene childhood memories Lily had. She was only sniffling a bit, and even managed a laugh at Tim’s last sentence. She continued watching Tim twirl the gem around, making it twinkle mischievously in the golden rays of the setting sun. Once her breathing had evened out, she pulled her hand away, and Tim pulled away his, straightening up and continuing to eat like nothing had happened, speaking in his normal voice.

“I get what it’s like. Saying the wrong thing. I do that, too. More times than I can count.” Tim’s voice brightened as he spoke since he watched Lily’s spirits lifting limply, saying the last bit perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. Lily raised her eyebrows and gave a small smile to her food, one that Tim couldn’t see. Tim leaned in and spoke in a whisper.

“I’ll forgive you if you forgive me for bringing up Care of Magical Creatures.”

Lily’s jaw was set as she continued picking at her food. She was no longer apologetic or deflated, but instead seemed to be filled with anger. Not the explosive one that bubbles over, but the quiet kind that gets etched only through years of resentment and hurt.

“I can’t interact with animals. I just can’t.” Lily didn’t realise she was speaking, but her mouth and started working before her brain could catch up, or register what she was saying. “I hate the subject. I don’t fucking understand the ‘magical creatures,’ okay? They’re always so hostile and completely unwilling to listen to me.”

“If you hate it so much, why did you pick it as an elective?”   
  


“Because...it wasn’t this bad in third year.”

“...okay. So why don’t you drop it? Heck, you’re taking this at N.E.W.Ts Level. That isn’t an easy thing to do if you hate it so much.”

Lily exhaled, finishing up the last of her food. Tim’s plate was still half-full.

“Okay, I lied. It always was this bad. I could never get it in first and second year, and was practically counting down the days till I could drop it. I remember-” Tim could see the sorrow and hurt in Lily’s distant eyes, as she re-lived a memory - “I remember the day of what I thought was my last Care for Magical Creatures lesson. I ran straight up to Hagrid and told him loudly that I wasn’t taking it ever again.” Tim sucked in a breath of air and even Lily grimaced unpleasantly.

“I know, that was a horrid thing to do. But Hagrid didn’t even get angry. He just...smiled, at me, and asked me if I wanted to take a souvenir from his cabin, or a pet from one of the lessons, to remember my time as a student of Care for Magical Creatures.” Lily looked disbelieving even as she uttered those words, as if she still didn’t believe them any more than the day she heard them. Tim just peered amusedly at her as he took a draught from his goblet, having no trouble believing that. That was just the kind of person Hagrid was. Tim had a feeling that Lily’s current shocked and skeptical expression was akin to her reaction that day.

“I mean, who does that?”

“Hagrid-”

“He didn’t get angry  _ at all _ . Maybe he was expressing his anger passive-aggressively-

“I don’t think  _ Hagrid _ -”

“‘Would you like a memento?’ No, I  _ wouldn’t _ like a fucking momento! I’ve hated this god-awful subject-”

“Ivy-”

“It’s preposterous, really-”

“ _ Ivy! _ ”

Lily stopped, looking around distractedly.

“Where?”

“What do you mean, where?”

“Where’s Ivy?”

“You’re...Ivy.” But even as Tim said those words, he realised he had been fooled. By himself, no less. That day on the train...he just assumed her name was Ivy. That was one of the names floating around in the compartment that Tim had just happened to remember in his drowsy state. Wait, didn’t she confirm it?

“Hang on. You said your name was Ivy that day on the train.”

Lily just stared at Tim like he was crazy. “The train? If you’re talking about the neck-grabbing thing you pulled on the Hogwarts Express-”

“-I am-” Tim muttered embarrassedly, feeling humiliated that she remembered who he was.

“Then you are most certainly mistaken. After our little run-in, I left immediately,  _ without _ revealing my name. You may know me from somewhere else, but I assure you it is most certainly not-”

“You may not have directly said your name was Ivy, but you  _ implied  _ it. And you can deny that all you want, but I was there, you know.”

Tim froze in horror, hoping against hope that he hadn’t said what he thought he just said. It was agonising - Tim could almost see the cogs turning in the girl’s forehead, making the connections, realising who he was...without being able to take back anything he said.

“ _ You _ !”

“Me!” Tim tried to crack a joke, or make the entire situation hilarious or light-hearted, but failed.

“You board the train by grabbing me around the neck, then have the audacity to hold a civil conversation with me hours later, all wrapped up in blankets? Were you really that cold, or was it just to hide your identity?”

Tim shook his head vehemently. This was exactly what Tim was afraid of. He didn’t like confrontations. And here he was, stuck in one with a particularly hot-headed Ravenclaw girl.

“No, I did recognise you that day-”

Tim knew from the incredulous look in her eyes that it was the wrong thing to say. That was exactly what set her off again, ranting about dishonesty and cowardice. When her rant started to dwindle, she neatly arranged her cutlery on her plate.

“I don’t have the time or energy for this. I probably have loads of work to do since I missed all my lessons today-”

“Wait, didn’t you say you got a lot of homework today?”

Lily froze, the angry spark in her eyes fading as her face slackened. She glanced at Tim for a split-second and immediately looked away, telling Tim all that he needed to know. Now it was his turn to act injured.

“You lied too? Oh, next you’ll be telling me your name  _ isn’t _ Ivy.”

Lily looked at him strangely, the barest hint of a smile on her face. Tim finished up the last bites of his meal and looked up to see Lily still staring with that odd expression.

“What?”

Lily’s smile grew ever-so-slightly, while she rubbed the joints in her fingers. She looked slightly nervous, and it was driving Tim mad not knowing.

“ _ What? _ ”

“...it’s not.”

Tim was still completely in the dark as to why Lily was acting that way.

“What’s not?”

“Ivy.” Lily quickly smoothed her hair down and stuck out her right hand.

“Hi, I’m Lily Rowen. Not Ivy. Ivy is...was...one of my best friends.”

Tim wasn’t exactly annoyed that Lily had faked her name. More confused, if anything. That was such an odd thing to do, and Tim couldn’t figure out why she’d want to do that.

“Why?”

Lily lowered her hand and looked apologetic.

“I- you seemed nice, and I thought you might have heard some...upsetting things about me. About Lily Rowen.”

Tim arched his right eyebrow exaggeratedly, pretending to think hard. “Hmm...Lily Rowen,  _ Li _ ly Ro _ wen _ ...nope, doesn’t ring a bell.” Tim folded his arms on the table, uncrossing his ankles.

“So do enlighten me. What devious sin have you committed to make you the talk of Hogwarts?”

Lily rolled her eyes at Tim’s dramatics. She would have expected something like this from Finn. Maybe Finn rubbed off on him.

“I just broke up with someone influential, that’s all.”

“Who?”

Lily’s face burned crimson as she cringed; it still stung to say his name out loud. Tim leaned forward, bracing himself for the worst.

“Todd Macmillian.”

Tim cackled, which probably wasn’t the best thing to do so close to Lily’s face. She backed away, alarmed, and Tim leaned away too, clearing his throat as he tried to stifle his laughter.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure the breakup was painful, but I just have to say; you could not have dumped him fast enough.”

Lily looked indignant. “Really?”

“Yeah; he’s such an insecure lightweight.”

“That ‘insecure lightweight’ was my  _ boyfriend _ five months ago.”

“The, let me be the first to offer my congratulations.”

Lily narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “If you hate him so much, why do you want to avoid him.”

Tim looked confused. “I don’t want to avoid him. What gave you the idea?”

Lily turned back to look at the Hufflepuff table, but it was deserted. She whipped her head back and forth, stammering.

“I-you-he was here! When we sat down-

“-you mean forcing me into my seat-”

“-you said you ‘didn’t want to see him too,’ or something like that.”

The look on Tim’s face was priceless. His mouth slightly open, face twisted in confusion. 

“That- that was Elliot. Elliot...something, I’m not sure.”

“Elliot  _ Goyle _ is a perfectly friendly person.”

“I know he is, that’s why my roommate’s in  _ love _ with him.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s the way he  _ looks _ at him-”

“No, I mean, he came out to  _ you _ ?”

Tim stared at Lily, who raised her eyebrows defiantly at Tim. As Tim continued looking stunned, the defiant look melted off her face, being replaced with one of worry.

“I can’t believe- I thought you knew-”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

Lily leaned back, looking relieved, uncrossing her ankles. As she looked around, she realised that the evening sun was gone and that the Great Hall was lit dimly with lanterns; the Enchanted Ceiling twinkling down on them from up above. Lily felt startled as she was dragged back to reality, realising the time. She hurriedly tried to get up, wincing as her shins hit the wooden table. Tim watched her concernedly as she struggled to gather herself.

“What’s wrong? Are you late for something?”

“Uh-yeah-not really, but...my roommates must be waiting for me.”

Lily pretended she was busy fixing her bracelet when in reality, she was really trying to let the flame in her cheeks die down. She could feel Tim’s approval of her decision, so it was no surprise to her when she looked up to see him smiling genially at her. Tim tilted his head to the side ever-so-slightly, asking Lily one last question.

“Wait, why’d you confide in me? I wasn’t expecting you to. Not that I didn’t want you to.” Tim bit his tongue, cursing his complete lack of tact, not for the first time. Luckily, Lily didn’t seem to notice, and she answered placidly.

“Well, it was like you said. You were just...you, with no strings attached.”

Tim was acutely aware of how hard his heart was thumping. He could feel his pulse reverberating in his bones and was sure that Lily could hear it too.

“...and maybe because you’ve got an embroidered handkerchief.” 

Lily gave Tim a quirky smile as she gracefully extracted herself from the bench, walking out of the Great Hall with significantly more spring in her step than when she entered. Tim closed his mouth, which he realised was slightly open in shock, and glanced at the crumpled handkerchief, dotted with Pumpkin juice stains, which was most definitely embroidered.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

Lily felt nervous all the way to her dorm. She felt nervous as walked out of the Great Hall. She felt nervous as she climbed up familiar staircases, instinctively dodging trick steps. She felt nervous as she answered the riddle, but luckily managed to answer it correctly. She felt nervous as she walked to the base of the staircase to the girl’s dormitory. She felt nervous as she stood outside the door, not knowing what to expect. Lily didn’t like not knowing.

She had walked a familiar route, one that she had taken so many times that she didn’t even need to think about where she was going. It was a comfortable route, one with many cheerful and happy memories of her trudging to bed after dinner, with Ivy and Melissa by her side. The route was the same today, as it was yesterday, as it was the week before that, as it was the years before that. Why then did Lily feel like an intruder in her own home?

Maybe it was because Ivy and Melissa weren’t by her side literally. Lily didn’t even know if they would still be by her side figuratively. All the way here, she dwelled on the possible outcomes of what she could expect to face here. Lily had come up 27 different outcomes, each equally unlikely. She only had a plan of action for 14 of them. Lily stood and stared at the royal blue door, weathered from years of use, and Lily wondered how many students it had seen, oscillating at the doorway of their dorms, not sure if they could no longer be welcome there. It was pure speculation, riddled with romantic whimsy, but Lily was a romantic at heart.

Lily was starting to learn that some things couldn’t be solved with cold, hard logic.

After debating with herself a bit, Lily and her mind reached a consensus that Lily would merely peek inside the dorm and evaluate the situation. If the atmosphere was hostile, which had a 99 percent chance of occurring, Lily would retreat before anyone would even know that she was at the door, and roam Hogwarts looking for Finn to house her for the night, or beg Madam Pomfrey to let her stay in the Hospital Wing just for a night. She wanted,  _ needed _ , to avoid Finn’s friend Tim at all costs.

Of course, there was that one percent chance that it would be a friendly atmosphere, at which point Lily would have run out of reasons to stay away any longer and be forced to join them. But really, the notion was so silly that Lily was only considering it in the name of logic.

As it was plain to see from Lily’s state of mind, she was engrossed in these thoughts, and overlooked one tiny detail that usually never mattered. Until now. In this case, it was extremely volatile. It really is a pity that Lily didn’t remember that their dormitory door, like many others, had a squeak.

Of course, she was immediately reminded of this face as she lightly placed her hand on the door and pushed it gently, only for the door to give a loud, long-suffering squeak. As soon as the squeak started, Lily spun on her heel and grasped the railing, about to run off. But something made her pause. Something made her freeze with her foot dangling over the next step, as if she was waiting for something.

Lily looked into the dorm through the crack of the door, which wasn’t much brighter than the inky-dark dorm staircase. The beds were dimly lit with a few lanterns, the orange light giving a nightmarish field. Suddenly, the light from the crack vanished, because it was being blocked by someone. Lily couldn’t make out who the person was from their silhouette. But when she felt fingers brush her shoulder, she instinctively took two steps forward and wrapped her arms around them.

It was Ivy. Lily could feel her rough curls tickling her cheek, which gleamed like copper when she cracked her eyes open. Lily wasn’t sure if Ivy was always this bony or if they’d never hugged this tightly before. Ivy’s grip tightened before she finally let go, holding Lily at arm’s length. Ivy’s eyes were rheumy as she tried to form a smile, but her face twisted into a sob. Lily hugged her close, soothing Ivy’s hiccuping sobs.

Lily wasn’t sure how long they stayed there, swaying gently, Ivy gripping her like she never wanted to let go. Lily saw Melissa sitting further inside the room, who looked like she was in a better state than Ivy, but her face was as ghostly as death. Lily knew from experience that Melissa was probably just as hurt as Ivy on the inside. She was never one to display emotion.

Slowly, Lily managed to disentangle herself from Ivy and led her to the extra bed in their dormitory. Ivy dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief procured by Melissa, and began talking in a shaky voice. All three girls were huddled together in a heap on the bed, murmuring softly.

“Just so you know...I don’t think you’re an experiment. And I’d never tinker with you. I just...get pushy sometimes.”

“No, I get it. You just really care about me. You care about me so much that you’d rather we fight than my life be a mess.”   
  
“Yeah, given that you still had one. A life.”

There was a jelly-like silence in the room, thick with the girls’ unsaid thoughts. The one thing they had been delicately skirting around was now confronting them. Ivy buried her face into the pillow, when Melissa finally took a deep breath and began.

“We thought we’d never see you again. Ivy was...decaying with grief. It’s just-” there was the rustling of some sheets as all three girls turned to lie on their backs, talking to the ceiling, still side by side. “-we never even suspected. It was...such a shock. We had no idea you were feeling this way.”

Lily wondered when was the last time she felt without thinking. As painful as it was, Lily forced herself to think back to that morning. It wasn’t easy for her friends either, but here they were, sticking together when things got tough. It was the least Lily could do.

“I...don’t know. I  _ didn’t  _ think about it...much. And not that seriously. It was just a passing thought, and only on particularly bad days. This morning, I think it all just...accumulated.”

Ivy was still silently shaking, her right hand holding the handkerchief to her mouth to stifle her cries. Melissa opened her mouth to continue but stopped when Ivy managed to croak out something.

“Finn told us where he found you. You were sitting so close to the edge. Why didn’t you...do it?”

Lily thought for a while, and then extracted her arms with some difficulty to wrap it around both her friends, Melissa snuggling with relief while Ivy still clung to her desperately.

“Simple. I remembered I had you.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------

Tim was back in the Hospital Wing, for the second time since he arrived at Hogwarts. Madam Pomfrey was using her wand to alternately shine a light into Tim’s eyes, with Rob anxiously hovering in the background. Rob proved to be a bit of a distraction that caused Madam Pomfrey to accidentally jab one of Timothy’s eyes (she fixed it in a jiffy) so now he was sulkily sitting next to Finn on one of the wooden stools.

“How is he, Poppy?”

Madam Pomfrey straightened up and put away her wand, walking over to her desk at the front of her office, the three boys trailing behind her. She was writing quickly on a pink slip, which she then handed to Finn.

“Good recovery. In fact, Mr. Wisteria is in such an excellent state of health that I am giving him permission to return to lessons tomorrow.”

“Er, Madam Pomfrey, maybe it would be better if I just had one more day-”

“Nonsense. It’s Friday, so you’ll have the entire weekend to recuperate if you really are still so delicate. However, I, a trained healing professional, deem you fit to return to lessons, so I shall let Professor McGonagall know to expect you in Double Transfiguration tomorrow morning.”

She looked sharply at Tim when he poorly concealed a groan, who straightened his posture nervously. Her sharp gaze softened and she spoke without her normal bite.

“This is your final year. As odd as the notion seems now, you’re going to miss this. The lessons, the extra-curriculars, the teachers...all of it. I myself couldn’t even bear to leave.”

She snapped out of her gentle reverie and stood up briskly, causing all three boys to give a start. She walked them out the door with urgency, urging them to hurry on. Finn and Rob turned to walk back to the Slytherin common room, but Tim paused.

“You guys go ahead. I...have something to do. Don’t wait up for me.”

Saying so, Tim walked in the opposite direction. Most lamps were put out by now, and soon Tim was in a pitch-black hallway. He pulled out his wand and lit it, carefully searching the floors for the twinkle of a badge. Or multiple badges. Weird Sisters badges on a well-loved brown satchel.


	13. Timothy's Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim's friends are in all sorts of messes, and there's only one way to deal with that, according to him, at least: Make an even bigger mess to cancel out three smaller messes.

**Chapter 12: Timothy's Decision**

_ For Timothy -  _

_ You should know by now that you’re not a morning person any day of the week. _

_ -f.r. _

Timothy woke up with a very sore back. And something sharp on his hand. He’d woken up worse; definitely nothing life-endangering, but it was a wonder. There was a cool breeze playing across his face. Ah, Finn must have owned a window. But that would mean he forgot to draw his bed hangings last night which would be...odd. Maybe it’s one of the side-effects of a concussion.

Oh, right, the concussion. The concussion that had healed, the concussion that could no longer get him out of lessons, his concussion. That concussion.

Timothy opened his eyes wide and immediately shut them again with a groan. The morning light was  _ blinding _ . Dazzling. Timothy gingerly inched them open again, squinting in the harsh light.

He saw a wall of moss. The wall was brittle, littered with debris around it, and the moss was a sickly shade of decaying green. Timothy opened his eyes wider, but the wall vanished. He sat up, staring at the exact spot where the wall had vanished. But all that stretched before him was an endless network of corridors.

It only just occurred to Tim that he was lying on the floor, and was not in his dorm. Which meant that he was lying on the floor  _ somewhere _ in Hogwarts. Which was odd. Timothy didn’t normally make it a habit to sleep in unknown hallways. No wonder he was so stiff.

But Timothy only vaguely registered all of this. He was still scrutinising the space where there was a wall just seconds ago. But there was no wall. There wasn’t anyone. Timothy was starting to feel worried; he had absolutely no idea where he was or what was going on.

He tried to untangle his legs from his robes beneath himself, and heard a ‘clink’ near his right leg. He lifted his right land and saw that his fingers were tightly gripping a brown satchel. Memories from the previous night were coming back now. Yes, he was looking for a satchel. Ivy - er, Lily’s - satchel. Almost every inch of it was covered in badges that Tim could barely see the actual satchel.

He was starting to remember the previous night in fragments. Walking until he was completely exhausted physically but still wide awake, due to his lie-in in the morning. Walking until he was mentally exhausted too. Realising he was totally lost and had no hope of finding his way back to the Slytherin Common room in this state and in the dark. Deciding that he might as well continue searching.  _ Finally _ finding the cursed bag and, apparently, promptly crashing to the floor.

Tim unsteadily rose to his feet, brushing himself down and stretching as he shouldered the satchel, whose badges were echoing deafeningly in the deathly silent and deserted hallways (really, how did Lily get to class with this thing?). He uncertainly walked forward, pausing at every fork to debate which direction he should go.

Amber Gretel, one of Timothy’s sister’s distant friends, loved watching survival shows. She always talked to him about it when he used to drop by to say hi to her older sister, Anna, when he was home for the holidays. She always went on and on about how the contestants managed to evade certain death by finding their bearings and using common facts, like moss growing on the north side of trees (if that was actually true.). There were no trees around, but Tim would do his best. He realised it was a bit dramatic to consider such extreme action, but he didn’t want to die wandering the halls of Hogwarts.

The morning light had blinded him when he was facing right, which meant that East was towards his right. Right. East. Bright light.

Why did he need to know where East was again?

It’s not like he knew where the rest of Hogwarts was. He wasn’t even sure if the right really  _ was  _ East. Since he was facing the sun, didn’t that mean he was facing East and was therefore in the West (if West was opposite to the East)? Timothy, having no other option, decided to just keep walking until he saw some sign of life.

And he walked, and walked, and walked, until the grey floors and beige archways just became a blur. It was making him feel dizzy so he closed his eyes. Timothy was starting to feel famished, and desperately trudged on, thinking of the mouth-watering breakfast that must be awaiting him, that he would be tucking in to right now with Finn if he wasn’t here.

_ Finn. _

Timothy stopped dead in his tracks, and opened his eyes in panic, just barely avoiding walking straight into a staircase banister. Oh no, Finn was going to  _ freak _ . He didn’t return to his dorm last night and there would be absolute hell to-

Wait.

Stair banister?

Stair banister!   
  


Tim focused on the stair banister he was clutching with his right hand. The very real stair banister he was clutching. It was the moving, marble stairs, too. They stopped at the first floor (spiral, cement ones led to the dungeons) and no one could be lost as long as they had the marble staircase.

For the true magic of the stairs was that wherever you may be in Hogwarts, there was one way to reach the doors: Second to the right, and straight on till morning. Not just a Peter Pan quote in this context. Whichever floor of you Hogwarts you may be on, turn right after the second staircase you take, and walk straight ahead. After a few twists in the hallways, you’d inexplicably end up at the Entrance Hall.

That was exactly what Tim did. Ran down the first staircase, practically leapt down the second one, and jogged right. No student had ever seen the walls change, or how the mist of magic shifted to lead them straight to the Entrance Hall. It simply wasn’t possible. And while there were a few students who thought up all sorts of clever ideas and inventions, that was secretly Tim’s favourite part. Losing himself in the magic of it all.

True enough, Tim reached the Entrance Hall. He walked across it and entered the Great Hall, seamlessly blending in with the rest of the crowd, if a bit scruffier than some. His friends weren’t down yet, so Tim decided to start before them.

However, just as Tim was about to inhale his fist forkful of scrambled eggs, someone knocked his head sharply, causing him to choke and almost have his throat scratched out by his fork. Eyes watering, he turned around to see a fuming Finn. Timothy grimaced, and sniffed in a pathetic attempt to elicit some sympathy from Tim.

Clearly, Finn didn’t have any left over for Tim, even though he seemed to have plenty for Josh when he heard about the music auditions fiasco.

“Ah. Finn. Good-”

“EGGS.”

“Now, Finn, look-”

“ _ EGGS. _ ” Finn whirls around, revealing a sheepish Josh and harried Rob, both of whom were relieved. Rob was  _ really _ relieved. He looked like he was about to pass out. Then again, Rob always was a bit of a lightweight.

“I spend all morning  _ sick  _ with worry that this piece of shit’s  _ injured _ himself or  _ collapsed _ somewhere, after his  _ idiotic roommates- _ ”

“-we have the same roommates-”

“-decided that it was  _ fine _ that he was missing.”

Rob started talking, but not with the same bravado that his words held. Tim suspected that they had already had this conversation a few times. “I told you, I had things under control! I was just going out to look for him when you woke up.”

“And you decided to wait till morning?”

“Look, Tim’s  _ fine _ . I told you he’d be fine!”

This was the worst thing to ever say to Finn, and Robert normally knew that, but the weight of his words only sunk in as he saw the incredulous yet venomous look on Finn’s face.

“So you’re telling me you decided not to look for him based on pure speculation? Poor judgement on your part as a budding healer.”

Josh sucked in a breath, and even Tim felt the right to glare disapprovingly at Finn. Finn’s face was a splotchy red, which receded as he glanced at Josh’s and Tim’s faces in turn, before finally resting his gaze on Rob’s hurt face.

The anger in Finn’s face vanished to be replaced by a look of regret.

“Rob-”

But Rob wasn’t there. Rob was shouldering his satchel and walking out of the Great Hall, weaving through the crowd of students. Finn made to go after him, but Tim hooked his hand in the crook of his elbow and pulled him down into the seat next to him.

“Don’t. Give him space right now.”

Finn was still gazing at the spot where Rob had vanished in the crowd sadly. Tim decided to leave him to his thoughts for a moment and could finally start on his breakfast in peace.

“...are you still mad at me?”

“Not so much anymore. You’re fine, like Rob said.” Finn groaned and pressed his fingers to his temples. 

“Merlin, I can’t  _ believe  _ I said that to him. He was fully dressed when I woke up, and you  _ know  _ how early I wake up (Finn was a morning person). I just... _ knew _ something was up, and he wasn’t telling me, and I saw your bed was empty,  _ untouched _ . And I realised you never came home last night, and Rob clearly knew. So I freaked, and then Josh woke up and I was so angry and panicked.”

“I get it. I’m sorry I didn’t come back.”

“I’d have waited up for you, but Li- I had other things on my mind.”

Tim frowned, as Finn hastily took a gulp of his pumpkin juice, the tips of his ears glowing red, always a danger sign that Finn was lying. It didn’t happen often, but even Finn felt the need to tell a little white lie every now and then. But Finn  _ never  _ lied to Tim. He told him everything. Tim didn’t really feel hurt, but knew he’d tell him in his own time. He always did.

“So. Where were you last night?”

Tim became very still, chewing slowly. He was thinking very hard on how to phrase his next words. He tried to subtly shift Lily’s bag to the floor, but the clink of badges gave him away. Tim’s eyes darted to Finn’s suspiciously narrowed ones for a beat. Then they immediately started tussling for the bag, much to the annoyance of people around them.

Tim maintained months later that he only lost because he was still in a weakened state from his concussion, but Finn managed to wrestle the bag from Tim. He stared at it open-mouthed, confusedly mouthing words as he turned it over. When he finally met Tim’s gaze, Tim couldn’t stand it any longer.

“I’m a Weird Sisters fan.”

That just made Finn even more confused. Tim’s hard was beating rapidly; he was lying through his teeth. There was a ninety-nine percent chance that he would be outed any moment. But there was also a one-percent chance that Finn wouldn’t find out. But Tim was nothing if not reckless, so he plunged on bravely, if foolishly.

“I know, it’s a bit of a shock (lie), but it’s the truth (lie). I’ve been keeping this inside me for ages (lie)...but I guess the jig is up (also lie. There was no jig.). ”

“Tim-”

“I know, I  _ know _ . I’m sorry-”

“Tim, I didn’t know you even  _ knew _ who the Weird Sisters are.”

“Oh. Well, I do.”

“Really? Which is your favourite?”

Tim glanced at the shiny badges. Finn was right; he had heard about them in passing before but had no idea what they were, or what they did. Judging by the art of their merchandise, Tim decided that they must be art enthusiasts. Like, abstract art.

“Um...their pottery collection.”

Finn’s face remained neutral. Tim’s heart lifted. Had he really gotten away with it? Wow, he must be the Sherlock Holmes of his generation, with deduc-

“Now that we’ve established that you were  _ lying _ , can you tell me why, exactly, do you have my cousin’s bag? And more importantly, where did you find it?”

Tim grinned sheepishly. “Oh, well, I had dinner with her yesterday. Actually, it was more of a late tea-”

“Get to the point.”

“Er, right. Basically, she mentioned losing this bag, which she really loved, so I thought I’d have a quick look around to see if I chanced upon it.”

“A quick look that lasted hours?”

“Well...I got lost, and…” even Tim could hear how feeble his excuses sounded coming out of his mouth. Why did he try so hard anyway? He only just met her, and he wasn’t  _ indebted  _ to her or anything. Tim mulled over it for a while, and decided that he just didn’t like the idea of Lily not having her satchel. It was so trivial - just a beaten, weathered bag with only emotional value. But it somehow felt wrong for her not to have it.

Tim was brought back to reality when Finn waved his hand right in front of his face. He gave a start and looked sheepishly at Finn.

“Did you hear a word of anything I just said?”

“Er...no.”

“Madam Pomfrey wants to see you after breakfast, to really make sure if you’re okay. I thought her eyes were going to fall out of her head when I told her about your late-night/early-morning excursion.”

Tim groaned, putting down his fork now that he had managed to eat as much breakfast as he could. He dragged himself up and started trudging to the door of the Great Hall, swaying to avoid students. Finn grabbed a breakfast croissant and jogged after him, munching as they made their way to the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey was just sending out another student who was only half-listening to what she was saying as they were interestedly flexing their fingers experimentally.

“And remember - no Quidditch for two weeks. If Mr. Macmillan has any objection to you sitting out for two weeks, direct him to  _ me _ . I assure you, I’ll put any doubts of his to rest.”

The girl nodded distractedly, almost walking straight into Tim and Finn. She ducked, muttered something embarrassedly, before darting down the hall and rounding the corner. Tim turned back to see Madam Pomfrey watching him sternly from the Hospital Wing door. She clicked her tongue disapprovingly as she carried out a check-up similar to the one from the evening before.

“I thought you were joking, Mr. Rowen, but apparently you were not.” She put her wand down, still talking as she measured out a vial of murky-brown potion that was slightly smoking. Tim spluttered after his first sip; it felt like his insides were on fire. He glanced at his reflection in one of the bedside mirrors after seeing Finn’s teasing grin. Sure enough, he had smoke coming out of his wars. Tim groaned.

“Now now, you’ll be thanking me in a few hours, and begging me for more in a few weeks. Now, tell me Mr. Wisteria, what inspired this little trip of yours? Fancy a walk in the middle of the night?”

“Uh, just filled with restless energy from...being cooped up all day. I promise it won’t happen again.”

Madam Pomfrey straightened, putting away her wand, clearly satisfied.

“Everything seems to be order, Mr. Wisteria. As per the Ministry, I am obliged to offer you my services when necessary, but as your matron...I would like to go a month without you in my Hospital Wing.”

Timothy and Finn gathered their things and bid Madam Pomfrey farewell as she practically swept them into the hallway.

“And remember - one more nighttime rendezvous and I’ll force you in one of these beds for a week, with a spoonful of the bitterest medicine I can procure.”

Timothy picked up the pace a little, having first hand experience that Madam Pomfrey was always one to follow through with her threats, only slowing down when he was a good distance away from the Hospital Wing. He turned to his right to grin at Finn, and stopped when he realised he wasn’t there. He turned around to see Finn trailing a bit behind him, still looking subdued. Tim watched him walk towards him and spoke when he was in earshot.

“What’s the matter? You look like Josh put bubotuber pus in your toothpaste. Again.” Tim tried to crack a joke, but deflated when he saw that Finn was still not amused.

“Is this about Rob? Finn, you  _ know  _ he’ll come around. He always does.”

“No, it’s not about Rob. It’s about last night.”

“I promise I’ll never do it again-”

“It’s not about that. You’re fine now and all, but,” Finn stopped, working himself up to say something while Tim watched bewilderedly.

“...I thought something had happened to you.”

Tim was at a loss of words. He didn’t know what to say. Safety had never been much of a concern at Hogwarts since the Second Wizarding War. How do you convince a friend that you’ll be safe?

“Wha- What happened? What started this?”

“Rob and I have reason to believe yesterday’s incident wasn’t a one-off thing.”

Tim sucked in a breath to retaliate, but paused when memories started to form. Yes, it was fuzzy, but Tim did remember a note. The note that made Josh cancel auditions. That was saying quite a lot, given that he had held auditions in the pouring rain once.

“I...don’t understand. I thought the Sacred Twenty-Eight were mostly reformed, now.”

“It is. But this note  _ couldn’t  _ be from them. It was trashing purebloods, about how we;re killers and such.”

“And you think it’s from the muggleborns.”

Tim didn’t need to ask, it was plain as day on Finn’s face. He looked mighty embarrassed, but it was true. It was what he thought.

“Rob agrees. He’s the one who brought it up, in fact.”

“Well, that’s interesting. But I’m a half-blood. Not exactly clear where I stand, is it?”

“You consort with purebloods. That may be reason enough.”

“Purebloods. You mean you, Josh and Lily?”

“Yes. Wait, since when have you been consorting with Lily?”

“Irrelevant. Look, Finn, as touching as your concern is, I am fine. And I will be fine. Because there is nothing to make me not-fine. It was just a stupid hate note.”

“Things could escalate. All I’m saying is you can never be too careful.”

“Even if things do get out of hand, which is unlikely, a group of misfits like us would be the last people to get roped into this.”   
  
Oh, Timothy, you couldn’t have been more wrong.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

While Timothy and Finn were walking to class, the Ravenclaws were having Herbology with the Hufflepuffs. Professor Longbottom had specifically requested that they bring their dragon-hide gloves today because they were dealing with an extremely dangerous plant that day.

“Alihotsy,” Professor Longbottom was explaining to the early crowd as Lily, Ivy and Melissa joined. “Very rare indeed, and I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw a patch of it right where the - er - a tower used to stand. Quite dangerous, and I won’t lie; I had my doubts about including this as a lesson, but you are a talented class.”

“Now, who can tell me the main danger of Alihotsy leaves?”

“Ingestion of its leaves causes uncontrollable hysteria.”

“Very good, Mr. Goyle, ten points to Slytherin.”

Melissa turned to Lily and whispered to her.

“I don’t understand; what’s so dangerous about a fit of laughter?”

“It’s uncontrollable. Some people don’t stop laughing for days.”

Melissa shifted her attention back to Professor Longbottom, still unconvinced and thoroughly unimpressed by them.

“Now, as always, there are no guarantees in Herbology. There are millions of variations and hybrids of each plant. I’ve already taken a look at the patch, and it seems alright, but we can never be too sure. Be alert, and notify me immediately if anything goes wrong.”

The party set out; cloth bags and small shears in gloved hands. It was only a short walk, but they all felt much more alive in the brisk morning air. The Alihotsy patch was under a shady tree that blocked out quite a lot of sunlight. It was facing a gold clock that reminded Muggleborns of a miniature version of London’s Big Ben, only gold instead of brown. The leaves seemed to cast off a strange, incandescent glow in the gloom under the tree.

They set to work. The patch was quite large, yet Professor Longbottom had only noticed it a few days ago. Even he seemed to be startled by its rapid growth. He collected a sample himself to send to the Ministry of Herbology, eyeing the plant suspiciously. Lily was partnered with Melissa while Ivy was partnered with a Hufflepuff boy. Lily decided to take a sample from the edge of the patch, so Melissa trudged further in the patch to collect a sample from the middle.

Melissa giggled nervously to herself as the leaves tickled her ankles. Not much taller than the grass, Melissa felt strangely unsettled by the unpleasant-looking spotted red green leaves. The glow from them became more pronounced and sinister as she walked further in. When she looked back, Melissa realised she had strayed from her peers. She reassured herself that no harm would come to her unless she ingested the leaves, which was not going to happen, and crouched to steadily cut a sample.

Melissa suddenly froze, something stopping her from squeezing her shears around the stalk. Melissa looked up, straining her ears. She had heard something, and though she didn’t register it, her body certainly did. She heard it again. A rustle. A crunch. Like someone walking on short leaves, leaves like the very ones she was standing on right now. It came from a hedge which the Alihotsy leaves patch was surrounding. Melissa approached the hedge with her heart in her mouth.

She grasped her bag and shears in one hand, the other hand gripping her wand which was still hidden inside her robes. She approached the hedge stealthily, and peered through.

There, in the glade, was a girl, staring down at the Alihotsy patch distastefully. Her blouse was untucked and a Gryffindor tie hung loosely around her neck. She sighed deeply and tucked her hair behind her ear resignedly, letting Melissa see more of her face.

She had a sort of pugnacious air about her. Opinions etched in every line of her face, from her slanting icy blue eyes to the decisive twist of her pale lips. She scooped up a duffle bag next to her, and Melissa wondered what was in it.

Consciously or subconsciously, Melissa stepped a little closer, causing her shoe to crunch on the traitorous Alihotsy leaves beneath her feet. Melissa cursed inwardly, and it wasn’t long before the girl in the glade had spotted her.

She cocked her head to the side, arching her right eyebrow imperceptibly. Melissa felt like the power of her gaze matched the intensity of her eyes. She thought she would be safe in the shadows of the hedge in front of her, but apparently not. The girl seemed intimidating, but not hostile. She maintained eye contact with Melissa, her smile growing as she watched Melissa remain stock-still although she wasn’t exactly secret anymore.

She had a very curious smile. It wasn’t exactly a smirk, but it felt like one with that aura of self-confidence she exuded. It wasn’t a crooked smile; Finn’s friend Timothy had a crooked smile that made him look dopey. She was unlike anything Melissa had ever seen, and Melissa was wholly captivated.

“I don’t bite, you know.”

That  _ voice _ . Melissa let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She had a lilting voice that seemed to ooze secrets. Melissa knew it was dangerous to succumb to her honeyed tones, yet she took a step forward.

She quickly realised it wasn’t a hedge; just a curtain of ivy that she was peering through. The ivy clung to her hair or wrapped around her arm, as if pulling her back. But it slunk back to its original position as Melissa took a few steps forward.

“I don’t suppose you know anything about this Alihotsy patch, do you?”

“I...we’re studying it for our Herbology lesson.” Melissa lamely waved her shears and cloth bag clumsily in her knobbly, gloved hands. She hastily put her hands down and spoke in a bright tone.

“So, do you do this often?”

“Lure innocent Herbology students with pocket-sized shears? No, not really.”

Melissa’s couldn’t hold back her smile. The girl spoke teasingly, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Melissa composed herself and replied good-naturedly.

“No, I mean come here, in this glade.”

“Not really a glade.”   
  


“You know what I mean. What do you do here?”

The girl fixed her eyes on Melissa again, who could feel her face beginning to grow hot. The girl had an intense stare and seemed a little less friendly than before. Almost suspicious. Melissa pressed on with bravery she didn’t really have.

“Well?”

“Come again one day, and you’ll find out.”

With that, the girl turned on her heel, and walked out the other side of the hedge which was also, obviously, another curtain of ivy. But the way she slipped through the vines so skillfully told Melissa more than she had gathered in their entire meeting.

Whatever that girl did there, it was private. Very private. Private enough to turn her from a charismatic smooth-talker to a secretive and apprehensive student. Melissa felt bad; she hadn’t meant to intrude. She had clearly been doing this for years, slipping through the ivy like it was her second nature. But she didn’t know about the Alihotsy patch, which meant that she hadn’t been here in a while. That made sense; school had only just started.

Melissa turned to go, but stopped when she saw something in the grass. A yellow scrunchie. Melissa picked it up with interest, and saw it had some gold flecks on it. It lifted her spirits a little, although Melissa didn’t know why; she couldn’t be a pureblood then, a half-blood at the very least.

She stooped to leave the scrunchie there, but her fingers didn’t really want to let go. This area was so secluded, it was unlikely that anyone else frequented here. The girl could have her scrunchie the next time she came here.

But what if the Alihotsy patch did something to it? After all, there are thousands of variations, it could...infect the scrunchie  _ and _ the girl if she used it. Maybe it was best to take it with her and swing by later to return it.

Melissa rubbed the satin gently between her fingers as she mused about what to do. She had just chanced upon her during her Herbology lesson; no one could blame her for that. But returning the scrunchie to her personally felt like she was pursuing something with her. A friendship, of course. Nothing more.

Did Melissa really want to get caught up in that kind of crowd. No, obviously. She was too charming, too clever for her own good. As Melissa was rubbing the scrunchie, some of the gold flecks rubbed onto her gloved fingers, twinkling blindingly in the sunlight filtering through the ivy surrounding them. That girl was definitely no saint.

But Melissa found herself thinking that she didn’t really mind that.

She pocketed the scrunchie before she could change her mind, and snipped a sample of Alihotsy efficiently. She straightened up and walked out of the glade, towards the light. She found Lily  easily, panting with dirt on her forehead. She looked up crossly when she saw Melissa’s shoes approaching her.

“What are  _ you  _ so happy about?”

Melissa quickly wiped the smile on her face that she didn’t know was there. She carefully arranged her features into a neutral expression and adopted an indifferent air.

“Oh, no reason. Just found a good sample easily. It’s really cool, in the glade.”

Lily continued wrestling with her shears and an Alihotsy plant furiously, swearing under her breath so furiously that Professor Longbottom turned a faint shade of pink when he caught a few of them as he walked by. 

Melissa sunk down onto the grass next to Lily, watching her scrabble in the dirt, trying to think of the best way to open the conversation. But that’s the thing about serious conversations, or conversations no one wants to have: there’s no easy way to begin, so just hope for the best and plunge in.

“Hey, Lily?”

“Mh?”

“You haven’t gotten any odd...letters, have you?”

“What?” Lily set her tools down and sat up to look at Melissa properly. Melissa wished she would go back to her digging. Difficult conversations were always easier to have if one of the people was slightly distracted.

“Melissa, have you been getting mean notes or something?”

Melissa flushed, embarrassedly shaking her head. “Oh, Lily, you say the silliest things.” She smiled and tucked her legs under her in an attempt to appear more casual. “It was just a random question. Do you need help with your Alihotsy?”

That seemed to remind Lily of her task at hand. Gathering her tools again, Lily resumed hacking away at the tough stem. Melissa watched her, letting her idiotic grin sit on her face for a few more seconds before it melted off.

Technically, Melissa hadn’t lied. She just...omitted some truth. Partial truth was better than lying. She had been getting letters - but not mean ones like Lily suggested. They were just odd ones, and Melissa was sure they’d amount to nothing.

She got her first one a week before Hogwarts started. Completely unrecognisable owl that flew off the second she detached the letter from his foot. It was cryptic, and requested her presence in Knockturn Alley at 10 pm two days later.

Yeah, like Melissa was going to show up for her own execution. She ignored it, but something held her back from telling anyone else. Two days later, another letter came from the same mysterious owl bearing another letter. The writer expressed their displeasure at her absence and decided to give her another chance, to meet in the last compartment in the Hogwarts Express on the train to Hogwarts at 12 pm.

Melissa ignored it similarly, but didn’t brush it off as easily as the previous one. Whoever the person was, they knew what they were talking about. Maybe they just meant another Melissa Huges. Surely, they couldn’t want anything to do with  _ her _ .

But when Melissa reached her dorm after dinner on the first night, there was a letter waiting for her on her bed. She wanted to tear her hair out in frustration. Who was writing these letters and what did they want with her? Similar to the second letter, this one invited her for one last chance to redeem herself - to meet in the dungeons at 10 pm.

Melissa crumpled the letter into a ball and tossed it into the wastepaper basket. She wasn’t going to give this creep the satisfaction of having successfully manipulated her by going down to the dungeons, even though her curiosity was killing her by now. The only way she managed to convince herself to not go was by reasoning that going down would probably  _ actually _ kill her.

When Melissa awoke the next morning, and saw a letter on her nightstand, she felt the fear that had been living in her chest for the past week curl a cold, clammy hand around her heart, squeezing the life out of her. She ripped it open and blurrily read what she could. It was full of threats, warning Melissa to watch out, and this letter was the most menacing one yet, but Melissa still didn’t tell anyone.

She couldn’t. Ivy and Lily had their own issues to straighten out, and this would only worry them. Besides, from the look of things, she wouldn’t be sent any more letters any time soon. And while that had held true so far, Melissa was feeling jumpy and slightly panicked every time someone approached her, like she’d be stabbed in the back if she didn’t pay attention.

Which was utterly ridiculous. Wizards wouldn’t even use brute force to kill, anyway. They use magic. But it bothered her that only she had been sent a letter. Ivy and Lily clearly hadn’t. What if other people had been sent letters but they, like her, kept it to themselves? And what tied her to those other people, if they even existed?

This would perhaps be a good time to note that Melissa was a muggleborn, and her friends were not. But it would still be a while before Melissa realised how important that was.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey, Robbie, got a minute?”

Rob turned, still smarting from the morning.

It was Josh, walking at a slower pace behind him. Rob acted like he was impatiently waiting for him to catch up, but was actually relieved to see him.

They walked side by side in silence, all the way to Charms class without uttering so much as a word to each other. It was a companionable silence. Rob and Josh’s friendship wasn’t quite the same kind as Tim and Finn, but they were just as close.

Charms class still wasn’t due to start until another fifteen minutes, so both boys had to awkwardly hang outside the classroom until Flitwick came scurrying down the hall.

“I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay? Of course I’m okay. I’m perfect.”

“That’s...good.”

“But I’m not becoming a healer anymore.”

Josh stared at Rob, trying not to smile, as if he though Rob was just messing with him, or didn’t really mean it.

“Yeah. Okay, why don’t you give yourself a few...hours? Days? To cool off and then decide on any major career changes.”

“Healer requirements are so large, I can become practically anything else. I could be a Herbalist. I could be an Auror.”

“Right, because fighting crime is what you do best.”

“It’s better than a career that’s so fucking impossible like  _ Healing _ . What was I thinking?”

“Thinking pretty sound thoughts. Remember our very first night in first year? That was  _ literally _ one of the first things you told me about yourself, and I thought you were some nut job-“

“-I was a  _ what?- _ ”

“And you haven’t changed your decision since. Now you’re going to flip your life over some random comment made by Finn which he didn’t even mean?”

“It’s  _ not _ just that, believe me.”   
  
“You’re telling me only  _ now _ that people are giving you shit for wanting to be a Healer?”

“ _ Not _ ...people. Just me.”

The silence after that wasn’t half as companionable as before, but on one really knew what to say.

“Hey.” It was Tim walking up to them, with a miserable Finn trailing behind. All four boys stood in awkward silence, which felt like a drastic one-eighty from yesterday. Tim tried to break the silence and ease the tension.

“Any of you do the pre-reading for Charms?” He smiled sunnily at Rob. “‘Course, I’m sure Robbie here has done it, no question.”

It was true; Rob  _ had _ done the reading but it wasn’t exactly helping matters, especially after that morning. Was he really so predictable? So boring.  _ ‘Oh, look, there’s Rob. Rob’s done the reading, of course, he’s  _ Rob _.’ _

So much to Tim’s hurt and surprise, Rob bristled as he spoke, making Tim’s smile vanish like storm clouds gathering on a sunny day. He looked questioningly at Finn, who he realised wasn’t even paying attention, then to Josh who just shrugged defeatedly. Today wasn’t turning out to be a very good day for Rob.

When Flitwick arrived, Rob sped in after him so fast he almost tripped over the dwarfish professor. Stumbling a bit, Rob muttered an apology that Flitwick cheerfully waved off. Rob sat in the very first row, where only Josh chose to join him, leaving Finn and Tim to sit behind them in the second row.

Flitwick wasted no time in going through the scheme of work for the year, emphasising the importance of diligence throughout the year, From the bored slump of Josh’s shoulders, Tim gathered that most of the lessons the previous day followed a similar line.

There was Rob, disheartened and cold towards Finn, who was distant and moping, along with a broken-hearted Josh who’s efforts had probably gone to waste in forging a friendship - dare I say relationship? - with Elliot. And there was Tim in the middle of it all, desperately trying to hold the four of them together.

But the thing about Tim is that he can’t stand ruins. Not like in an irritated way, but in a...hm...self-righteous way. He would take it upon himself to mend every broken thing in the universe if he could, magical or not. Tim was never one for drastic action, but then again, his friends had never been this upset.

It was a stupid thing to do. Reckless. Pointless. Flitwick certainly wouldn’t like it. Tim was a bit of his favourite, and Flitwick always passed him a toffee or two whenever they spoke in private. It was like gold in third year, and although he didn’t appreciate those sweets as much as a N.E.W.T student, each confectionary item was another reminder of Flitwick’s care for his students.

Too bad that he’s have to find another student upon which to bestow his sweet delights.

Tim had lots of chalk with him during that lesson. Why, would be a story for another day. Breaking a stick in two, he gently rolled around in his fingers, the white dust staining his fingertips. Then, at an opportune moment when Flitwick’s back was turned, he pulled back his right arm and launched the chalk at the back of Flitwick’s head.

At first, no one had realised that anything had happened. The chalk was so tiny, and thrown in such a fluid motion. Professor Flitwick’s writing only slowed down after a while, when he seemed to register that something had been thrown at him.

He spun around with a squeak, almost toppling over his tower of books. Everyone was glancing at each other with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. Professor Flitwick was a prime target for pranks (he knew that and didn’t really mind, obliging the poor souls in the ending weeks of the term) but not much by the older students. It just seemed to have lost its appeal, but as the students buzzed about the out-of-place and unusually immature prank, the walking-dead-like class seemed to catch some of their old child-like energy that hadn’t been seen for years.

“Alright, alright, settle down. Yes, I suppose a certain someone must be finding this quite entertaining, but we still have quite a lot to discuss  _ and  _ I would like to get a headstart on  _ ascendio _ , so if the culprit would just-”

Flitwick stopped dead in the middle of his sentence as yet another piece of dusty chalk rapped his forehead smartly, leaving faint traces of dust that outlined the creases in his forehead. Most of the class tried to stifle their laughter until Josh let out a bark of laughter, when all hell broke loose. Josh set Tim off, who set everyone else off. Tim craned his head to try and gauge Rob’s reaction through the thicket of students, but couldn’t garner much from the back of his head.

“Now,  _ really,  _ you lot are seventh-years! Can the culprit please turn themself in?”

One beat. Two, then three passed, and no one raised their hands. Tim suspected a few had seen him rearing his arm back for the second throw. Time didn’t mind, because he had planned to ‘fess up anyway.

Flitwick looked like he couldn’t believe his eyes when Timothy slowly, but surely, raised his hand. His eyes darted around the classroom nervously, almost hoping that someone else would raise their hand. Seconds passed, and Tim’s hand remained solitary in the air. Flitwick couldn’t ignore him anymore as he met his even gaze.

“Very disappointing, Mr. Wisteria. A week’s worth of detention, I’m afraid.” Flitwick spoke without venom; just concentrated sadness that made Tim’s heart go out to him. Was it really worth it, putting a smile on everyone’s face at the expense of one of Hogwarts’ most beloved faculty? Tim’s regret quickly morphed into confusion when he saw Finn raise his hand. He furrowed his brow at Finn who deliberately ignored him, waiting to be called on by Flitwick.

As Flitwick looked up from the stack of papers he was sorting, he gave a jump when he saw Finn’s hand in the air.

“Yes, Mr. Rowen.”

“It was me. I threw that chalk.”

Murmurs broke out in the class again, and Flitwick looked like the rug had been pulled out from under him for not the first time that morning. His wavering smile diminished, as he concernedly watched Josh raise his hand too.

“‘Twas I, Professor.”

The professor was at a loss of what to say. Rob’s head remained dutifully bent over his book. Tim tried to ignore the sinking feeling of disappointment in his stomach, keeping his hand raised. He looked back at the professor, who was not looking at Rob. And his hand. Rob’s HAND in the AIR.

Tim wanted to scream with joy (you know, the Tim equivalent of screaming, which would probably be really wide smiles and ice cream). All four boys were flushed to different degrees; all with excitement and apprehension.

Flitwick just sighed resignedly and brought out his detention booklet, writing each of them a slip.


	14. Hysteria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melissa has an unfortunate fall

**Chapter 14: Hysteria**

_ For Timothy -  _

_ Fate plays its hand once again, _

_ The hand that started it all. _

_ -f.r. _

Lily and Ivy disentangled themselves from the throng of students that was Every Hogwarts Student Being Dismissed at The Exact Same Time at the end of the day. Sensible, seasoned seventh-years (which normally included Lily and her friends) waited for the surge of students to die down before heading back to their common rooms. Unfortunately, it was a Tuesday, which meant that Lily couldn’t wait out the crowd, and Melissa was nothing if not loyal.

Ivy was already waiting for them outside. She was best at navigating through the crowds, and amusedly watched Lily struggle out of the crowd barefoot, shoes in hand. She had a faint smile on her face as Lily faced her triumphantly.

“Why do you have mismatched shoes?”

Lily’s triumph faded as she stared at the shoes in her hand with a decidedly disgusted expression, before quickly dropping them, alarmed. One of them was her plain, black ballet flats and the other was a slightly scuffed white trainer. She sighed and bagged her shoe, leaving the trainer at the edge of the corridor for their owner to find later. Both girls started walking to their destination, the marble floors feeling freezing under Lily’s feet.

“Just duplicate your shoe.”   
  
“No point, Vee. Then I’d just have two left shoes instead of one left and one right. Ugh, how do  _ you _ manage it? Every day, you’re the first out the door  _ and _ stay so put together? It’s just not fair.”

“Aw, Lilsy-doo. If it’s any comfort, I’ll never be able to craft a Draught of the Living Death like youuu.”

Lily’s miserable expression showed the barest hint of a smile, as Ivy gushed and squeezed her right arm. Lily rolled her eyes at her friend’s dramatics.

“I told you to stop calling me that. Also, you  _ can  _ brew potions wonderfully, if you just actually try.”

“I can’t; the school syllabus just sucks the soul out of me. I only had fun during my O.W.Ls, when they  _ didn’t _ dictate the potion we had to brew for the first time.”

“Ivy, you are honestly the  _ only  _ one who can have fun in their O.W.Ls.”

“It was like solving a mystery.”   
  


“I thought I was going to have a coronary when I saw your set completely untouched while everyone else was furiously stirring.”

“Eh, the bezoar worked, didn’t it? I got to the N.E.W.T level. Maybe that’s what I’ll do after Hogwarts. Be an auror, or something, where I can be creative.”

“I still can’t believe you have absolutely no idea what you want to do after graduating. I thought you said you narrowed it down over the summer!”

“I did. I eliminated ‘Hogwarts Professor.’ I refuse to play a part in stifling the innovation that is devoid in the Hogwarts syllabus.”

“Ivy, everyone else knows which direction they’re going, at the very least. You don’t even have a  _ car _ .”

“Aw, I didn’t know you cared so much.”

“I’m serious, Ivy; do you think you’ll be happy sitting idle after graduating while everyone else is off at their jobs or interviews?”

“I...I won’t be sitting  _ idle _ .”

“Ivy, I know you like to experiment, but that can’t continue after Hogwarts. I’m sorry, but it’s just not feasible. What are you  _ really _ going to do?”

“This...this  _ is _ what I’m going to do.”

“I just don’t want to see you hurt or regretful, Vee.”

Saying so, the girls rounded the corner to the Transfiguration classroom closest to the marble staircase, otherwise known as the Detention Room.

Lily Rowen was one of the Ravenclaw prefects, which wasn’t really saying much. Most Ravenclaws either were too scatter-brained, and the ones that weren’t engaged in pursuits outside of the prefectorial board. But Lily had always wanted to be a prefect, even before she started at Hogwarts. On Tuesdays, she had Detention Duty, which really wasn’t that bad, especially since Ivy joined her occasionally if she felt like it.

Here’s the thing about Tuesdays - people with detention on that day are the most interesting ones you’d find all week. That was because detentions were mostly given out by the week, not by the day. If the offence was really that minor, the professor would just deduct house points. Mondays would be the fullest and noisiest, but Tuesdays were quieter, because some people just couldn’t be bothered to show up for every single day. Lily never reported them, but those were the same people who landed themselves in detention in the first place, so they weren;t exactly discreet about not being in detention, so the professor would always find out and give them a stricter detention, one they couldn’t get out of.

That also meant that Tuesday detention-ers were the nicest people, and Lily knew most of them personally. Tabitha, a third-year Ravenclaw, almost always in detention for adding a twist to her potions in class, which wouldn’t have warranted her an entire week’s worth of detention if they didn’t always burn through the cauldron or give off poisonous fumes. Jacques, a seventh year Hufflepuff who kept getting into detention every time he and his friends were caught setting up an underground business of gourmet cookies, since they were excellent bakers. Lily always had a soft spot for them because they were good kids at heart, just a little misguided in their creativity.

However, this was only the second day of the year, so Lily didn’t expect the usual suspects to be present, and she was right. She also expected that no one would be there, which she was wrong about. There was Timothy, Finn, Rob and Josh seated in the very first row, so close to the prefect’s desk that they looked like they were clustering around it.

The boys were silent, but it was a different silence than before. It was more amiable, thick with a thrill they hadn’t felt since they were in fourth-year. When had they become this boring?

Lily walked in slowly, confused, but Ivy was walking at a normal pace behind her and kept prodding her in the back, so she shuffled in awkwardly with bursts of speed. She dumped her cotton satchel replacement on the floor while Ivy dragged a chair next to hers. She smiled slightly as Finn handed her the detention slip, eyebrows raising as she read it. Ivy snatched it from her eagerly, before letting out a bark of laughter and thrusting it back at Lily.

“Misuse of  _ chalk _ ? What on earth did you do?”

“Timmy here decided that it would be a fun idea to pelt Flitwick with chalk.”

“In my defense, everyone’s spirits needed a little raising.”

“So you decided to pull out your bag of, and I quote, ‘fifty-something pieces of chalk’?”   
  


“Why did you have so much chalk?”

The last question was asked by Lily, who was still looking bemused. Tim, who had been completely relaxed earlier, stuttered a bit, not quite meeting her eye.

“Er - for a project.”   
  


“Project.” Lily repeated it back to him, clearly not believing him. Finn glanced curiously at Timothy, not quite believing what he was seeing. Tim being nervous in front of a  _ girl _ ? Finn decided to be a nice friend (for once) and moved the conversation along. Tim looked like he was going to combust under all that eye contact with Lily, who was just watching him with interest.

“So, here we are, detention.”

“If only Tim did something, why are all  _ four _ of you in detention?”

“You wound me, Ms. Louvre. It was only in the name of loyalty-”

“That and you thought the whole thing was hilarious, and you just wanted the four of us to run wild together again.”

“Well, maybe. Come on, it’s our last year. We’ll never be able to do this again! Doesn’t that make you sad?”

The six Hogwarts students fell silent, Finn’s words accidentally hitting a sensitive spot in all of them. Keeping in touch after Hogwarts was always a promise, but sometimes they wondered if it was one they would, or even  _ could _ , follow through. Rob cleared his throat, trying to break the silence, bringing up next week’s charity event for fifth to seventh years.

The conversation ebbed and flowed for a few hours. They didn’t feel like they were running out of things to talk about. It was comfortable and fun. 

Timothy learned that Ivy took one karate lesson when she was younger, and that she ended up going for only one lesson, despite her pestering her parents to buy her the uniform and everything. Ivy learned that Rob once refused to talk to Josh for an entire week in their second year when Josh had scored higher than Rob on a Potions essay. Josh learned that Lily was a killer dancer, according to Ivy at least.

“So...where’s your other friend? Melissa?”

“Quidditch tryouts.”   
  


“Mhm.”

The silence stretched out, devoid of the chatter and cheer it had a few moments ago. Tim saw Lily’s eyebrows contracting, her gaze fixed intensely on the wood of her table like the power of her stare alone could make it burst into flames. She jerked suddenly and looked up, meeting Tim’s eyes. Tim jerked awkwardly, looking away and sinking into his chair, feeling the back of his neck heating up.

“It’s just; she was so weird this morning.”

“Melissa?”

“Yeah, during Herbology. We had to collect Alihotsy samples, and she managed to get hers first. While I was trying to dig out mine, she asked me if I had gotten any strange letters recently, or something along those lines.”

Rob sucked in a breath sharply, and Josh went deathly still, both of which went unnoticed by Lily as she continued.

“I said no, I didn’t, but she seemed kind of anxious. I mean; I can’t be completely sure, I was really focused on my plant. I don’t know, something just felt off about it.”

Josh started speaking, his eyes unusually bright. “We got a mean note, too. During the band auditions, outside the Slytherin common room. “Welcome to the home of arsonists and murderers.’ It really creeped a lot of people out, which was why I decided to skip a year for the band this year.” The last part was news to everyone, even Josh’s friends, because he hadn’t decided it, it was just something he had been vaguely considering, until that very moment. There were cries of outrage from the rest of them.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t continue the band like this. I don’t want anyone getting hurt. Someone clearly has a grudge against Slytherin-”

“So fight back! Don’t let them win!”

“It’s not so much about accepting defeat as it is about keeping people safe.”

“Besides, who will they fight back to? Only Slytherins know where their Common Room is-”

“What about the inter-house sleepovers?”

“We’ve never had one in the  _ Slytherin _ dorm before. I mean, no offense, but isn’t it under a lake? And like, freezing?”

“It grows on you.”

“It has to be someone who’s still latched onto the belief that Slytherins are evil; so someone old-fashioned, because everyone knows Slytherin hasn’t produced a dark wizard in ages.”

“But that person also has to be a Slytherin, since they know where the Common Room-”

“Wait! It doesn’t have to be a Slytherin! It was done on the day of the band tryouts, so the enchantment was lifted for the day. Anyone could have found the Common Room.”

“So it could be from any house. I’m betting Gryffindor.”

“Ivy.”

“I’m serious! It makes perfect sense. Someone with a staunchly Gryffindor parent; only they would want to do something like this.”

“That just makes you as stereotypical as them.”

“Sometimes you have to fight fire with fire.”   
  


“What?”

“Never mind. Basically, two can play a game. And they started it!”

“You do realise the first two wizarding wars were based on the ‘he started it!’ line, right?”

“I got a note!”

The last one was blurted by Robert, freezing the discussion. Timothy squeaked in surprised, and then immediately wanted to bury his face in his hands for  _ squeaking _ in front of Lily.

“It was waiting for me on my nightstand on the first day of school, requesting my presence in the dungeons at 10 pm. Like I was going to listen.”

“Did you go?”

“Josh...sometimes I worry about you. I’ve been around you and Finn and Tim for almost the entirety of the past two days; do you  _ think  _ I went, or have a fondness of getting my head chopped off?”

“I mean; you’d’ve snuck past us if you really wanted to go.”

“...true. But I didn’t. And I got another letter and one last one, full of threats for not showing up.”

“Where are they now?”

“Chucked in the fire, where they belong.”   
  


Finn groaned. “We could’ve shown it to a professor or something. Do you think anyone else got those letters?”   
  
“I’m starting to think Melissa  _ did  _ get a letter like that.”

“What if her letter was more like Josh’s? You know, collective hate?”

“Thanks for being  _ so caring _ , Rob.”

“Anytime, Joshy.”

“No, it couldn’t have been like Joshua’s because then she would’ve shown it to us. But I can see her keeping it to herself if it was a personal letter like Rob’s.”

“Who would even send such a thing? And why to just Rob and Melissa? I mean, they’re not even in the same house.”

As Timothy was talking, her eyes landed on Lily again. Lily looked like she was suppressing something; like she knew something the others didn’t but wasn’t ready to reveal. Tim looked at her kindly, silently encouraging her to share, but she just shook her head regretfully and looked away.

“Lily, is there something you want to say?”

Everyone else turned to look at Lily too, who flushed under all the attention.

“Well- oh you’re all going to hate me for asking this, but I have to. Rob, what’s your blood status?”

There was a bit of stunned silence before Rob answered.

“Muggleborn. Sorry, that caught me off guard.”

“You know I normally wouldn’t ask about something like that-”

“-I know you wouldn’t. Don’t worry, I’m not offended in the slightest.”

“It’s just that...Melissa’s muggleborn too.”

It was an unpleasant and bitter coincidence that they were faced with, and no one wanted to admit to its plausibility. That it could even be the truth. The air was unnaturally heavy in the chilly classroom, combined with the distant sounds of hubbub in the corridors and the mingling voices of professors and students. One sound started to become louder and clearer among the noise. The sound of footsteps pounding closer and closer. The six of them looked up inquisitively as the footsteps rounded the corner.

It was a sweaty sixth-year in her Quidditch uniform - Winnie Chang, the captain of the Ravenclaw quidditch team. There were grass stains all over her shins and her hair was sticking to her forehead. She leaned against the doorway, trying to convey a message breathlessly.

“Hospital Wing - M-Melissa.”

Lily’s breath caught in her throat, and Ivy looked white with fear. Even the boys looked uneasy and concerned. Rob looked downright horrified. The girls leapt up, gathering their things while Lily rambled some instructions.

“Stay here - all of you, we'll be back as soon as we can. If we’re not here by the time your detention ends -”

By now, Lily’s hands were shaking so much she could barely fit the clasp of her satchel. Two gentle hands were placed over hers, snugly turning the clasp. It felt comforting and reassuring.

“You’re mental if you think we’re about to just sit here for the next few hours. We’re coming with.”

Lily looked up disbelievingly at Tim, who only looked completely sincere. She sighed, secretly glowing on the inside that someone cared so much, and turned to walk out, where Ivy and Winnie were waiting. It wasn’t exactly an invitation, but it wasn’t her forbidding them, either. The boys followed, the pack of students walking briskly and urgently. Lily wished she had taken Melissa’s words more seriously that morning, or at least pressed her to reveal more.

Oh, Melissa,  _ please _ be okay.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

Melissa watched Lily slip her shoes off and hold them in her right hand, trying to wave to Melissa before diving headfirst in the crowd of students. Of all the changes Hogwarts had, you’d think  _ someone _ would come up with the brilliant idea of staggering dismissal times. 

Melissa leisurely packed her things, watching the mob dwindle to a small crowd until eventually only a few stragglers were left. A second-year Gryffindor was hopping in the corridor, eyes glued to the floor, and his face brightened when he spotted something in the corner. Melissa stepped out of the classroom just as the boy walked by, still stumbling a bit as he forced the shoe on.

Melissa hurried up the staircases to the Ravenclaw common room, breathlessly flinging her satchel onto her bed. She sat at the window seat while untying her shoes, squinting at the blazing green Quidditch pitch. She could only barely make out a few people that were just tiny dots - Winnie Chang, talking to Madam Hooch with her back to the entrance, turning around every so often to wave at the occasional student who came to watch, or to try out.

Melissa gave a quick glance at the window after a change of clothes and tying her hair in a secure bun. The stands were sparsely filled, along with Jordan Kavinsky, who had been a staple at every Quidditch tryout or game since fifth year. He started off by just selling bottled water, but today he had all kinds of refreshments, such as pumpkin juice or even small portions treacle tart during the summer. They were all priced at a reasonable fee; of course, students could obtain the same refreshments from the Great Hall for free, but no one really minded coughing up a sickle or two to save themselves the walk.

Melissa rushed down, accelerating as she darted down staircases, starting to feel giddy with excitement. She had been practising since fourth year, always finding some excuse or the other to avoid trying out. Either she wasn’t good enough, or they had O.W.Ls, or needing time to adjust to the shift in curriculum. This was her final year, so she just had to try out.

She slowed to a walk as she walked into the Quidditch pitch, her heart thumping with adrenaline. Jordan was hunched over his stand near the entrance, and gave her a thumbs-up as she walked in. He tossed her a water bottle that Melissa caught abruptly, surprised at her own reflexes.

“On me. Just kick ass out there, Carter. I’ll die a painful death if I see Justin as Beater,  _ again _ .”

Melissa smiled weakly, starting to feel nervous. She tried to squash her doubts as Winnie waved cheerily at her; albeit a little distractedly, since she was doing a headcount. See? Everyone was rooting for her. Even  _ Jordan _ . Jordan was kind of odd, but he was one more person supporting her. Lily always oozed compliments about her flying, even though she didn’t know the first thing about Quidditch. Ivy knew a little more and always gasped dramatically when she stopped by to watch her practice, including hearty applause. All she had to do was get through this and not mess up.

Not mess up.

Melissa hadn’t realised Winnie had already started her briefing, and she had stopped talking by the time Melissa came back to the real world. The supporters were sitting away from the candidates, sucking on popsicles, with Jordan contentedly counting his sickles in her peripheral vision. Jordan being a muggleborn has certainly put a spike in his sales.

There was no specific order for the candidates; they could choose their turn whenever they liked. Melissa thought she’d be the second, maybe third person to try out. But her chance came and went, for Melissa had decided that it was better for her to watch more people, take note of some tips. Every time Winne stood to call for the next person, Melissa felt oddly nauseous. What if she tripped while walking to the field? That would embarrass her so much and throw her off her game, and definitely wouldn’t be selected. She’d be humiliated. By then, another candidate would seize the opportunity, and a wave of relief would wash over Melissa.  _ Oh well, maybe next time. _

Initially, candidates would join their friends in the stands after trying out, to watch the rest. However, dark clouds began to collect over the Quidditch pitch. Bursts of strong wind were making people’s hair all over the place, some even spilling sticky juice all over their robes. Slowly, the crowd began to dissolve (despite Jordan’s assurances that a little wind or rain never hurt anyone and him frantically putting umbrellas out of the stand; he was losing all his customers.), with every odd student pointing at the umbrellas over Jordan’s stand and whispering to a friend. Soon, only a few students were left, bundled tightly in robes or hoodies.

Melissa ended up being the last candidate, Winnie smiling tiredly at her, nodding in encouragement. The stands were so empty, coupled with the darkening skies and chilly wind, it felt a bit spooky. Melissa would have thought twice about getting on her broom if Madam Hooch wasn’t there. Perhaps she really should have thought twice.

Melissa shakily mounted her broom, her arms feeling weak as her slick palms grasped the Beaters’ bat. She squared her shoulders and tightened her grip, swinging it a bit to warm her stiff muscles as she rose on her broom. Stopping quite a distance away from the clouds (Melissa still didn’t feel completely comfortable with them), Melissa nodded to Madam Hooch’s thumbs-up from the ground.

From the ground, Melissa could barely make out the bludgers, which were rapidly approaching her, accompanied with their signature high-pitched whistling sound. Melissa readied herself and smacked the bludger as hard as she could. The bludger veered to the left, Melissa grinning in satisfaction as it disappeared into the mist.

Wait, mist?

Melissa looked down, realising she was now much further off the ground than she was before. The warmth of the energy in her arms was slowly fading as she was blanketed by the mist. She tried to ignore how her freezing hands were painfully clamped around the handle of the bat, straining her ears to detect the bludger. She ignored her shivering, but couldn’t take it any longer when the only sound she could hear was that of her teeth chattering. Her damp robes seemed to pull her down towards the ground.

She suddenly felt ridiculous. Here she was, playing in the clouds where Winnie or Madam Hooch probably couldn’t see her. It suddenly seemed so funny. Hilarious, actually. Melissa let out a chuckle. She giggled a bit, picturing Winnie and Madam Hooch’s confused expressions. She burst out laughing when she pictured them just blankly staring at a mass of clouds, wondering where she was.

Melissa laughed and laughed and laughed until her vision was blurry with tears. Her stomach hurt, and the bat was dangerously close to slipping from her hold. She imagined the bat landing on Madam Hooch’s head and continued laughing. There was a small voice in the corner of her head, a muted, much more serious voice which was drowned out by her own laughter filling her ears. She couldn’t stop even if she wanted to.

She was starting to feel light-headed from laughing so much. Her laughter subsided a bit, reduced from hearty guffaws to a continuous string of subdues giggles. The world was just a blur of greys, blues and greens in front of her eyes. Melissa bent, trying to hold her broomstick firmly with both her hands but kept slipping. She felt this odd swooping sensation in her stomach, and more muffled voices in her head.

Then it all went black.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

Lily slowed down as the group approached the doors of the Hospital Wing. From the panic on Winnie’s face, she knew that Melissa wouldn’t emerge from this completely unscathed. Was she ready to see her friend in so much pain?

But then Timothy loosely held her wrist, and her mind felt miraculously clear. For the first time, her river of thoughts seemed to still and be replaced by how comforting and steady his hold felt, like he wouldn’t let go until she was ready.

It wasn’t much, but it helped Lily feel a little bit braver.

Feelings of guilt were rising in Ivy. She had only gotten to know Melissa because of Lily, and still spent more time with Lily, even though Melissa was always there for her, just like Lily was. She wouldn’t be able to bear seeing Melissa horribly disfigured or in pain, feeling like a fake for caring about her only because she was hurt.

Lily approached Ivy, Tim close behind. All the boys were standing behind the girls, except for Finn, who gently pushed the door open. The door was completely silent, and the Hospital Wing was dark, but the light spilling from the Hallway illuminated Melissa’s pale and tired face. She was visibly shaken, and had a few scratches and bumps on her face, but nothing life-threatening.

Ivy’s heart limply lifted. Could it be that just this once, Melissa got lucky? Ivy hoped it was and swore she would start spending more time with her. But Melissa still looked strained. A Healer in St Mungo’s robes was whispering in hushed tones to Madam Pomfrey, who looked equally grim. She nodded gravely and the Healer took her leave, looking at the students reprovingly as she slipped past them.

They stepped in cautiously, quietly, looking at Madam Pomfrey for approval. She simply looked to the floor and walked into her office. The students crowded around Melissa’s bed, filled with questions.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. One minute I’m on my broom, the next I’m laughing and I can’t stop, and suddenly I’m on the ground. That’s what it felt like.”

“Laughing?”

“The healer said that it could have been because of nerves. She said I was probably suppressing some fear of heights but kept forcing myself to face it so the laughter was some sort of defence mechanism.”

“Bullshit.”

“ _ Ivy. _ ”

“It’s true! We live in the second tallest tower at Hogwarts; how could she be afraid of  _ heights _ ?”

“And I’m not. I felt a little nervous, but not scared.”

Lily was trying to piece things together. Melissa didn’t seem too badly injured, and she seemed alright in spirit, but something about her was off. She was trying to be cheerful, but it was becoming more obvious by the second that something terrible had happened.

As Melissa babbled, explaining what had happened, her voice got shriller and more high-pitched, until it was just a whisper. Lily placed her hand on Melissa’s arm, and she came apart at the seams, like a hair trigger. Her face crumpled and she clenched the sheets tightly in her fist.

“What really happened, Missy?”

“I’m completely fine, except for the fact that...I may never walk again.”

The boys immediately shuffled near the door, sensing that this was too private for them to listen in on. Rob tapped distractedly on the glass of one of Madam Pomfrey’s cabinets. Tim tried to dress Finn’s wrist with a spare bandage lying on one of the nightstands. Josh closed the door even more until only the faintest crack of light from the hallway filtered through. They could barely make out the shadowy silhouettes of the girls.

“What do you mean, never walk again?” Ivy demanded fiercely. She overrode Lily’s hushing and continued. “Is that why that St. Mungo’s healer was here? They don’t know what they’re saying. A twisted ankle or broken leg never hurt anyone.”

“Ivy,”

“No, I don’t want to hear it. Enough with that defeatist attitude. I’d say five days, a week tops, for you to get back on your feet.”

“It’s nerve damage. I landed quite badly and broke both my legs. Madam Pomfrey healed my bones fine, but my nerves…”

Melissa stopped, absent-mindedly prodding her legs, shaking her head. She looked utterly distraught and defeated, and spoke in a whisper.

“I can’t feel a single thing below my waist. It’s terrifying. It’s like I can’t remember what it’s like to feel my legs. What does it feel like? How do you describe the feeling of having limbs? I wouldn’t be any better off if I lost my arms; I have no clue as to how I would feel without them. I’ll be in a wheelchair forever.”

“Don’t say that. It isn’t true. Things seem bleak now, but one day you’ll walk again, and we’ll all still be right here, cheering you on. You don’t need legs if you have us. We’ll be your legs.”

“And now I can’t even play on the Quidditch team. It’s our last year.”

“Lisa, you’re tired and in shock. Get some rest, and maybe things will look up tomorrow.”

“They won’t.”

“You need to make the best of the situation. We can’t take away your pain-”

“-or lack thereof-”

“- no matter how much we want to. We’re really sorry, Missy, but you’ll overcome this. We know you will. And until then, Lily and I are right here.”

Lily and Ivy made their goodbyes and walked back to the boys. Tim’s entire right forearm was bandaged by now and Finn was just starting on his left ankle.

“Nice. You could become a healer.”

Finn barked a laugh, which echoed oddly and distorted in the dark and empty Hospital Wing. Lily couldn’t make out his expression.

“Can’t. I can’t stand seeing people in pain. It makes me feel the pain they’re feeling. I’d be too emotionally invested in each patient. Rob’s going to be a killer healer, though. Er, poor choice of words.”

Madam Pomfrey emerged from her office, somehow looking frail for the first time. Maybe it was the dim lighting, but her face seemed weary and rough. It was like she walked into the office as the lively caretaker of HOgwarts and walked out like an old woman. Madam Pomfrey was always the bustling, stern but kind matron of Hogwarts, and it felt odd to see her so down and dispirited, the same way it felt odd to see Melissa give up. It just felt wrong, like the universe had tripped and made a mistake, going out of sorts.

“She’ll be alright, won’t she?”

Madam Pomfrey looked solemn, but nodded with pursed lips.

“Did she tell you?”   
  
“Tell us what?”

“How she fell.”   
  


“Yeah. She said she was laughing too hard.”   
  


Madam Pomfrey seemed to age another ten years just by hearing that.

“I was afraid she would.”   
  
“...Poppy?”   
  
“Ms. Carter wasn’t laughing. She was crying.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------

The group of friends were huddled together around the fire in the Slytherin dormitory, some on the floor and some in the armchairs. The girls were generously bundled in blankets and rugs as they were unaccustomed to the cold and damp that was the Slytherin common room. Each face was anxious and grave in the crimson light of the dying fire.

“Something doesn’t add up.”

“A  _ lot  _ of things don’t add up.”

“What could have possibly done that to her? Some sort of charm? And who would do that to her?”

“Can we stop pretending that we don’t know that it’s some crazed pureblood supremacist at work here? The same person who sent her and Robert the notes?”   
  
“Merlin, Rob, we’ve got to keep an eye on you now. You might be next.”   
  
“Geroff, Finn, I’m  _ fine _ . And I will be. It’s going to take a lot more than throwing me off my broom to put me in a Hospital Wing.”

“I say we just lock him in our dorm until this whole thing blows over.”   
  


“Can you  _ please _ take this seriously?  _ Our _ best friend is paralysed from the waist down and yours is about to go the same way!”

“...sorry.”

“I think I know what caused Melissa’s fall.”

“What?”   
  
“The Alihotsy plant.”

“...we  _ were _ picking it this morning.”   
  


“There, I’m ri-”

“But the tryouts were hours later. Surely it couldn’t have taken this long for something to happen.”   
  
“It’s like Professor Longbottom said. No two specimens are the same.”

“So Melissa allegedly accidentally ingested the Alihotsy plant? I’m sorry, but I find that hard to believe. Melissa is always so responsible; she would  _ definitely _ have paid special attention this morning. And it’s not exactly easy to  _ accidentally  _ eat a leaf and not realise it.”

“Besides, I thought we decided that this was foul play. This wasn’t just some accident.”

“It could have been.”

“After the note she received? Highly unlikely. It would be a very convenient coincidence.”

“Did Melissa keep any of the old notes?”   
  
“No, she burned them because she didn’t think they were serious, or because she was scared. We don’t even have any proof to take to McGonagall or any of the professors.”   
  
“I don’t think we should go to any of the professors just yet!”

“Why not? There are lives at stake. Someone else might also be facing these threats.”   
  
“If we tell the professors, this will all go public. Part of the reason they haven’t taken drastic action is that they’re operating from the shadows to keep that element of surprise. If we take that away, they might wreck havoc.”

“‘They’? So we’ve decided there’s more than one person behind this?”

“If Rob and Melissa got invites, I’m guessing other people did too. We can’t assume that all of them ignored that. Maybe some of them did join, and are doing the bidding.”   
  
“But why muggleborns?”

“...no idea. We need to wait. We can’t do much until we find their pattern.” 

“I do hope, for your sake, that you aren’t suggesting that we wait for more of these incidents to happen just so we can ‘find their pattern.’”

“It’s for the greater good. Do you have a better idea?”   
  


“Hey,  _ hey _ , let’s not fight. We’re all worried about our friends. Maybe we can hunt for clues surrounding this incident. Madam Hooch and Winnie Chang were there; maybe we can ask them about it tomorrow.”

“I’ll tackle Winnie at breakfast.”

“Ivy,  _ no _ , she might think you’re accusing her.”   
  
“Are we not accusing her?”   
  
“Ivy, we can’t scare her off. She might be that little tidbit of help that we need to uncover the villain. We’ll talk to her when the time is right.”   
  


“We’ll talk to Professor Longbottom to see if any of the Alihotsy samples went missing.”

“Couldn’t the culprit just pick a fresh specimen outside of class?”   
  


“Alihotsy is a very volatile plant. It can only be picked with the equipment in the Greenhouses.”

“Unless the person was determined enough to procure a specimen by themselves.”   
  
“Then it’s obvious which house they’re from.”   
  


“-Ravenclaw.”   
  
“-Slytherin.”

“What? They’d have to be pretty smart and resourceful to find a way to pick the specimen without hurting themselves.”   
  
“On the contrary. That would take a lot of ambition and dedication to pull off. Slytherin, obviously.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions until we know more.”

“Tim and I will guard Rob and make sure no one tries anything with him.”

“Don’t.”   
  


“Are you crazy? The wacko clearly has no qualms with  _ killing  _ people.”

“Firstly, he wasn’t aiming to  _ kill _ . Just maim her, at best, which he did. If he wanted to kill Melissa, he would have done something more foolproof. Besides, he  _ needs _ people like Melissa for whatever twisted reason. He just wanted to scare her into submission.”

“But it didn’t work.”

“Definitely not.”

“But we need Rob to still be accessible to him. You guys can be nearby to step in, but we need to let him try to get to Rob. The more he tries to attack someone, the more likely he is to slip up. All we need is one tiny mistake. For all we know, he’s already made an error. We’ll find out tomorrow.”   
  


“In the meantime, each of us have to keep our ears open for any secret goings-on at Hogwarts. I’ll talk to Jordan tomorrow to see if he’s heard any rumours. Gossip would be pretty helpful around now, no matter how far-fetched.”

Ivy now turned to the boys.

“I know we’ve only just met, but we need you to keep this a secret. Whatever we’ve discussed today  _ stays _ between us. No one can know.”

“No one can know.” The rest of them chorused, or muttered.

Lily and Ivy got up and made their goodbyes, thanking the boys. Rob and Josh straightened out the Common room and put away the rugs while Finn put out the fire. Tim ran out to catch up with Lily and Ivy who were already walking back.

“Hey. Want me to accompany you back?” Tim said to both of them, but his gaze caught on Lily. Ivy rolled her eyes.

Lily smiled sincerely at him. “Thanks, but we’ll be fine. It’s getting late and it’s a long walk. We wouldn't want to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble. You can never be too sure with a psycho roaming the halls.”   
  


“The psycho’s probably asleep now. Besides, he wouldn’t want anything to do with us. He’s already achieved his goal.”   
  


“He could use you for...blackmail.”   
  
Lily shifted her right hand ever so slightly, which was tucked in her robes. Tim could see her fingers tightly wrapped around her wand before she slid her hand back in her robes. Tim realised she was probably holding her wand for their entire conversation and felt like an idiot.

“Er, right then. Good night.”   
  


Tim turned and awkwardly shuffled back, and Lily kept her eyes on him a little longer than she’d like. She turned and saw Ivy suggestively raising her eyebrows.

“It’s not what you think.”   
  
“I didn’t say a word.”

“Then I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’re the one talking.”


	15. Guilty Remorse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melissa wakes up and realises that losing her legs is a nightmare she cannot wake up from, while Ivy and Lily desperately search for someone to pint the finger at.

_ For Timothy - _

_ I hope you remember that the guilty carry a heavy heart, _

_ And that in itself is their punishment. _

_ -f.r. _

Nobody would have blamed Melissa for having a rough night, and a rough morning, but she didn’t. One minute she was sleeping, the next she was seeing the Hospital Wing bathed in the orange glow of the sunrise for the first time. It was her first time spending a night in the Hospital Wing, and she hated it. It was all comforting and warm and downright  _ mocking _ .

Melissa looked at the fruit bowl distastefully before putting it under her bed. Madam Pomfrey wasn’t around. Melissa wasn’t sure what to do, so she decided to take a walk.

That is, she decided to take a walk until she shifted and didn’t feel the cold floor under her feet. It felt confusing, like her body was forgetting that it had to feel the floor, that it was supposed to let her control her toes, that her feet had to be able to support her.

No one would have blamed Melissa if she just crumpled back in her bed, agonising over the feeling in her legs or lack thereof. Melissa persisted. Just because she couldn’t feel the floor it didn’t mean she couldn’t stand on it. Melissa shifted her weight off the bed...and onto the lower half of her body, which was beginning to feel more disconnected by the hour. Melissa stood for a second, victorious, until she crumpled into something soft and squashy next to her. It was black, and comfortable, and was...a wheelchair.

No one would have blamed Melissa if she hated being in a wheelchair, or wanted to smash it. Melissa felt an odd twang of...disappointment? Sadness? Maybe it was the feeling of being so full of purpose 24 hours ago, revving up for Quidditch tryouts, and to now having to rely on a chair on wheels to cart her around. She gingerly touched the cold metal around the wheel. Just how was she supposed to get to her class with all the stairs? Hogwarts could work on being a little more wheelchair-friendly.

No one would have blamed Melissa for taking time to take to being in a wheelchair, but she outright loathed it. Melissa placed her hands on the cold metal frame of the wheels and gave a gentle push, hating the way it smoothly carted her nearer to the door. She hated the way how secure the grip of the wheels felt on the floor. Abandoning all sense, Melissa recklessly drove herself out of the door, bruising her elbows, which she hated for being too easy. Almost as easy as walking. Almost.

She wheeled herself to the staircase outside the Hospital Wing and stared down its shiny marble steps. The staircase was still. Maybe because no one was around yet. She wheeled a little closer carefully, breath catching in her throat when the stairs shifted as she approached. They flattened to make a smooth marble slide. Melissa knew that it wouldn’t be too slippery if she bothered to try it; the wheels would never let her fall.

Why then did she feel so miserable? (nothing can make up for her legs)

Melissa hesitantly wheeled onto the slide. True enough, the string grip of the wheels didn’t let her slide, simply letting her glide gracefully down. Melissa’ heart sunk lower and lower into her stomach for every floor she went down. By the time she reached the ground floor, the sun had risen a little more. The orange glow was replaced by warm sunlight that warmed her cheeks.

She wandered aimlessly, experimenting with her wheelchair, wondering how fast she could go. Would she ever be as fast as she was on her legs? Maybe the wheelchair had speed, but Melissa felt that she would never get used to fumbling with wheels. It was hard to make turns.

She wheeled past the Greenhouses. Professor Longbottom was right; they did look beautiful in the morning. The smaller plants sparkling with morning dew, gently swaying in the breeze that was coming through an open window. The larger, more vicious plants were still asleep. It felt so peaceful. Melissa vaguely considered pursuing a teaching profession at Hogwarts. Professor Longbottom’s job must be nice; spending his days surrounded by plants.

No, she corrected herself. Surrounded by his passion. Her passion was flying. That feeling of weightlessness, not going too high, just suspended in happiness, wind whistling in her ears. Melissa remembered that she might have just had that experience for the last time ever, and her mood darkened.

She was at the end of the Greenhouses. The Greenhouses were a bit cut off from the rest of the school so she was quite a distance away from the school. She glanced up the sloping grass, at the gold clock, where the treeline started. Where she picked Alihotsy with her classmates.

Where she met that mysterious girl.

No one would blame Melissa for being curious about the girl. After all, she didn’t have many encounters of the odd kind. But people would blame Melissa for dwelling on her, being the sensible, rational girl she is. But as seen before, Melissa didn’t really care about what people thought, and she reasoned that she was just practising wheeling herself uphill.

Although the slope was gentle, Melissa had a hard time maneuvering herself up, mainly because she was scared she’d roll all the way down again if she let go. So Melissa reached the flat top breathlessly with pink cheeks, enjoying a sadistic kind of satisfaction in finding a limitation in the wheelchair.

The Alihotsy patch was still there, though a bit sparse. Melissa wheeled herself past the patch carefully. The encounter felt like ages ago. And no one had seen them, except the Alihotsy plants. Frankly, that was ridiculous. Plants couldn’t see people, or what they did or did not do.

Melissa started wondering if it was a bad idea to try to find her. Maybe it was. Maybe he subconscious knew that, and would deliberately prevent her from finding her, no matter how hard she tried. But Melissa recognised the wall of ivy all too easily. What once blended in with the rest of the shrubbery in the shady foliage now stood out, blindingly obvious. Melissa wondered how she ever walked past it for seven years, completely oblivious.

She wheeled in, carefully holding the itchy ivy away so that it wouldn’t get stuck in her wheels. The girl wasn’t there, but the glade was just as she remembered it, except that the ivy fencing it was dappled with hues of gold and warmth of the sunrise. It felt like an invasion of privacy, being in a place so clearly personal to that girl when she wasn’t here. Struggling slightly, Melissa maneuvered her wheelchair around, when her hand slipped and almost got jammed into the wheel. The girl was there, one hand on the satchel on her shoulder while the other pushed the ivy away, looking stricken.

The girl sucked in a breath sharply when Melissa met her gaze. Melissa’s face burned with shame. How long had she watched her? Since she entered, or just long enough to see her pathetically spending ages to just turn herself around? Melissa couldn't exactly run away from the situation. The wheelchair slowed her down, and the girl was blocking her only escape route. Melissa jutted her chin out definitely, eyes bright with indignation. Her voice was harsh and bitter as it cut through the peace of the morning.

“So. You know now.”

The girl shook her head gently, lips still slightly parted in shock, as she took a step closer to Melissa. And another. And another. Melissa wanted to recoil, or at least retain some semblance of dignity, but with every step the girl took, Melissa felt closer to breaking down more than ever.

When she saw the girl for the first time yesterday, she was awed by her beauty and grace. But there was something beyond that. A certain...something. A take-charge attitude, perhaps, that seemed refreshing to Melissa. Like a girl who never succumbed to her circumstances, like Melissa was wont to do all too often. And Melissa felt this inherent need to impress or dazzle her the same way the girl’s gaze made her heart thump with more purpose.

But Melissa hadn’t been able to wow her. In the girl’s eyes, Melissa was sure she was nothing short of clumsy, weak and tragic. She probably found her ridiculous, or pitiful, or stalkerish, for returning to  _ her _ glade, invading  _ her  _ privacy. It all felt all too much as the girl took step after agonising step towards her.

Towards seeing her come apart at the seams, all because she had one, little fall.

When the girl finally reached, she knelt, and reached a hand towards Melissa’s face. Melissa stared into her wide, blue eyes, and the girl gazed back. They didn’t hold nearly as much self-assurance as they did last time, but there was something different lurking in them this time. Not pity, or disgust.

If Melissa didn’t know any better , she’d say it was admiration. 

When the girl’s hand finally reached Melissa’s face, she cupped her face and ever so gently brushed a thumb across Melissa’s cheek. Melissa didn’t know what it meant. I pity you? What are you doing here/get out of here? Are you honestly dumb enough to think my invitation still stood for a person as broken as you?

The girl’s index finger pressed gently at the base of Melissa’s skull, and Melissa sagged forward the same time the girl leaned to catch her. And Melissa crumbled. Sobbing desperately, she caved. Maybe it was the last twenty-four hours taking a toll on her, but it felt like the weight of her problems were finally crushing down on her, like she was only in numb disbelief before.She felt so defenseless and weak, like a frightened animal, scuttling around, lost. The girl’s arms around her felt reassuring, like an anchor keeping her firmly grounded in reality. She didn’t want people to tell her to be optimistic, or that she could overcome it.

All she wanted to do now was to lie here and hurt.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

Lily and Ivy had decided to pay Melissa a small visit in the Hospital Wing, to cheer her up and see how she was feeling. Instead, they were met with the sight of a frantic Madam Pomfrey yelling -er, talking- to Professor McGonagall.

“Now now, Poppy, there’s no need to get ahead of ourselves-”

“Bed empty! No note! Wheelchair missing! She’s physically and emotionally vulnerable and she could be anywhere in the castle.”

“Poppy, she’s not some impish second-year student. She’s in her seventh year; I’m sure she’s more than capable of taking care of herself.”

“She’s just lost her legs, Minerva, and whatever you say, she’s still just a child. She’s hurt and confused-”

“I’m sure she hasn’t gone far-”

“Gone? What do you mean, gone?”

The two witches turned to see an indignant Ivy and stunned Lily hovering near the door.

“Oh, Ms. Rowen, Ms. Louvre. Come in. We were just discussing the whereabouts of Ms. Carter. She’s seemed to have gone on an early morning excursion. You haven’t happened to see her, have you?”

“No, we were just coming to visit her before breakfast. How can she still walk?”   
  


“I modified a muggle invention for use in the castle - a wheelchair. It’s just a prototype I’ve been working on for the past few years, and Melissa is the first student to use it, which is why I wanted to monitor her using it. But it appears that she’s taken off with the wheelchair.”

“A wheelchair?”

“Yes, Ms. Rowen. Fascinating invention, really. Just what it sounds like, a chair with wheels.”

“That sounds...odd.”

“It does, doesn’t it? But trust me, the actual object looks quite normal. Now, Poppy, don’t fret. I’m quite certain no harm can come to Melissa in that wheelchair. She can’t fall down the stairs, because I’ve charmed them to transfigure into a slide for her to wheel down, and the wheels have a firm grip on the floor, so that she won’t skid.”

“What about outdoors?”

McGonagall peered at Ivy through her glasses, slightly confused.

“Outdoors?”

“Yes. Melissa likes the greenhouses. It reminds her of home. She could have gone there. Is the wheelchair safe for outdoors?”

“While I didn’t take them into consideration, I’m sure the wheelchair would be just as safe outdoors as indoors.”

“But do you know that for sure?”

“No. But then again, there are precious few things in the world that we can be completely sure about.”

Ivy sighed and Lily shot her a stern look. They then began to have a completely silent telepathic argument, where Ivy’s various facial expressions kept being met by the same glare from Lily that couldn’t mean anything other than a firm, resolute no. But then again, this was Ivy. If she took no for an answer each time, she wouldn’t have broken her skull in second year. Maybe not the best example to give.

“Professor McGonagall!”

“Ivy.  _ No _ .”

“Yes, Ms Louvre?”

“Ivy, I’m serious.”

“So am I, Lilsy-doo. Professor, would you terribly mind if you excused us from the first fifteen minutes of Charms this morning? We’d like to try our own hand at hunting down Melissa.”

“Cut it out, Ivy.”

“If you promise to miss only the first fifteen minutes...I’ll let Filius know.”

Lily groaned long-sufferingly while Ivy gleefully dragged her out of the Hospital Wing.

“It’s a cold morning, Ivy. My stiff muscles feel no need to be exercised. And what about breakfast?”

Ivy responded by making them take a small detour in the Great Hall, scanning the crowd for a minute before dodging through the students, emerging seconds later with a stack of buttered toast.

“Which poor unsuspecting junior did you steal  _ that _ from?”

“Malcolm Heinz. He owes me, anyway, for not telling you about his Fanged Frisbee.”

Like Ivy anticipated, Lily sucked in a breath sharply.

“That third year’s hiding a Fanged Frisbee in his dorm?!”

“Don’t worry, it’s more like an artifact. Besides, he doesn’t try to use it.”

“Oh. Then why wouldn’t he want you to tell me about it?”

“He  _ tried _ to use it once. I smelled the smoke and saved his favourite tie, the one he irons obsessively. He won’t try using it again anytime soon.”

“Right. But I still don’t want to walk up and down every hallway for the next half-hour.”

“We don’t have to. I know exactly where Melissa is. Or a pretty good guess, anyway.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell Professor McGonagall?”

“Like I said, I’m not sure. I don’t want to get her hopes up.”

“That, and you want to skive off Charms.”

“Shh, we don’t need to discuss that. If Melissa were here, which she will be soon enough, she’ll back me up about him paying too much attention to me.”

“That’s because he tries to  _ help you  _ so that you improve and, I don’t know,  _ pass your Charms NEWTS.” _

“Don’t get shirty with me now, Lily.”

“Where are we going anyway?”

“Greenhouses . Melissa always says they remind her of home.”

“Yeah, but that was way back in fifth year. Why would that still be her comfort place?”

“I...don’t know. It just...feels right.”

Just the day before, Ivy desperately wished that she were a better friend to Melissa, or knew her better. Well, it turns out, sometimes you know a person better than you think. And you care for the person more than you thought. Ivy may not have spent as much time with Melissa but it hurt to see her bedridden almost as much as if it were Lily lying there.

But, sometimes, the opposite is also true, in that you really didn’t know the person as much as you thought.

“Not here.”

“Yes,  _ thank you _ Lily. What a brilliant observation.”

“Don’t feel bad. I didn’t even remember that she used to like coming here, once upon a time.”

“Yeah, well, fat lot of good it is to remember older versions of your friends.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true!”

“We change imperceptibly everyday. Melissa didn’t change overnight. You just...forgot to change your version of her.”

“Now what? Do you think she’s inside?”

“It would take ages to find her. Listen, Ivy, let’s just head to Charms. Melissa will turn up eventually. Maybe she doesn’t want to be found.”

Ivy stood silently, watching the sun’s rays reflect in the greenhouse, the silhouette of Professor Longbottom delicately shifting through the plants. Lily thought she finally got to her.

“We don’t  _ have  _ to go to Charms, if you think about it.”

“Yes, we do.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------

The hug had felt awkward at first. Melissa knew the wheels would be digging into the girl’s waist, and it was probably scarring to have this complete stranger of a girl break down on her shoulder, even if she was the one who had initiated the hug.

And yet she still hadn’t pulled away.

Five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen minutes passed...and Melissa still hadn’t relinquished her hold on the girl, who showed nos signs of wanting to let go either. Melissa shakily weakened her grip on the girl’s (surprisingly bony) shoulders. The girl finally pulled back gently, untangling her hands from where she had gripped Melissa tightly.

Melissa quickly wiped her cheeks and cleared her throat, knowing that she probably looked like a mess. She took a deep breath but paused when she saw the girl’s unusually bright, opal blue eyes. They weren’t striking like before, but seemed more intense. Darkened with...something.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

“No, it’s fine.”

“I should be going.”

“You don’t have to, Melissa.”

“H-how…?”

The girl lamely gestured to the neck of Melissa’s robe. There, stitched in the lining, was her name.

“Oh.” Melissa could feel her face heating up. The last thing she needed was more reasons to feel embarrassed in front of her. Melissa was just  _ bored  _ during the holidays, so she tried to take up embroidery. She wasn’t very good at it, and no amount of practice was improving her skill. Unfortunately, the realisation became a bit too late, only after she had attacked her clothes, socks and even the leather covers of some of her books. Now, more than half of Melissa’s possessions was messily decorated with an embroidered ‘Melissa Carter.’She probably looked like some obsessive freak, who couldn’t even embroider properly.

“Oh. That.”

“My name’s Kate, by the way. Kate Vaughn. So, Carter,” The girl had a decidedly pleasing mouth, and her eyes didn’t seem so intimidating when they crinkled like that. They looked like glittering glass, reflecting light in a thousand different directions.

“...Melissa?”   
  
“Mhm?”

Kate just smiled, almost cross-eyed as she tried to meet Melissa’s gaze, letting out a small laugh.

“I like seeing you so happy.”

Melissa faltered a bit, looking away.

“I’m so sorry about that, I don’t normally…”   
  
“...accost unsuspecting Gryffindors in mysterious glades?”

“That. Or break down this way.”

“My rule of thumb is that I always need a good cry every three months. I have this crying buddy in Hufflepuff, Jacques, and every three months we have a sleepover where we spend half the night crying.”

“That sounds so depressing!”   
  
“We feel really better after that, and the second half of the night is more fun where we get over all that stuff. That’s my favourite part.”

Melissa shook her head and smiled in spite of herself, looking around the glade. The ivy swayed in even the slightest breeze, and made this rustling sound, that was oddly comforting and reassuring. Something that felt grounding, and secure, like it was keeping the rest of the world out of this place. And here, in the light, each leaf was a different shade of green.

“The ivy’s  _ so  _ pretty.”

“You think the ivy’s nice? Look up.”

Melissa did, and the ceiling took her breath away. It was a network of ivy. By now, the sun had fully risen, but wasn’t above the glade just yet. Instead, a soft glow was reflecting off the ivy curtains to the ceiling, tinging the green ivy a warm yellow.

“Wow. I could just look at them all day.”

“You really couldn’t. By afternoon, the sun’s so intense, it hurts to look at it, and this whole area becomes like a  _ furnace _ .”

“What’s your favourite time of the day to be here, then?”

“Twilight. Or maybe a bit before that. The sun reflects  _ only  _ on the ceiling so the glade feels cool and the ceiling looks like gold. When twilight comes, it’s like the whole glade holds its breath. I swear, it’s like even the ivy stops swaying, and the whole glade is bathed in this gentle, very subtle golden glow. Sometimes it’s a very faint pink.  It feels so magical, but it only lasts for a few minutes. I wish I could just bottle that light and see it whenever.”

Melissa was watching Kate carefully as she spoke. Kate used a lot of hand gestures when speaking, gesturing to the ceiling or ivy, until she had two faint, pink patches on her cheeks. The silence seemed all the more heavy when her voice died away. Kate met her gaze and smiled, making Melissa’s heart flutter over her crinkled opal eyes. Melissa broke eye contact and cast her gaze around, desperate to bring up something else.

“The ivy really is gorgeous.”

“I can name something even prettier.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------

Melissa looked...different. Lily couldn’t put her finger on it, and Ivy wasn’t exactly helping, having accused half the people in the Great Hall within three minutes, Melissa weakly protesting that it really wasn’t anything to worry about. Firstly, she had disappeared for hours this morning, claiming to have gone on ‘a walk’ and only showed up ten minutes ago. After a very thorough check-up by Madam Pomfrey and insisting that she could use her wheelchair just fine, Madam Pomfrey finally released her to have lunch. But Lily had already caught her secretly smiling to herself twice.

“Lily? Lily?”

“Mhm?”

“Now is not the time for you to zone out. As I was saying, Winnie is right there, so here’s what I saw we do: we slip some sleeping potion in her Pumpkin Juice  _ now  _ and she’ll be out by-”

“Hey, Winnie!”

Ivy glared at Lily as Lily waved at Winnie breezily, gesturing her to come over. Winnie smiled slightly, walking over to them. But as Winnie drew near, Lily could see how tired her eyes looked, and how even her smile was a little strained. Lily would put it down to stress, but Ivy would put it down to guilt.

“Hello. Oh, Melissa, I’m so sorry about what happened.”

“You don’t have to be. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Even so. Isn’t it just awful, not being able to walk?”

Some of Melissa’s feelings must have shown on her face, because Winnie’s oozing sympathy suddenly disappeared, replaced by a very awkward Winnie.

“I mean, of course it’s terrible, no doubt about that. Still, things will get better.”

Melissa smiled tightly, turning to look at Ivy and Lily who were having a very intense, muttered argument. Lily looked exasperated, as she had a penchant for being when Ivy was being tiresome, and Ivy looked as stubborn as ever. Casting a final warning look at Ivy, Lily began speaking gently.

“Actually, Winnie, that's what I wanted to talk about-”

“What do you have against Melissa?”

“ _ Ivy _ .”

“Wha-me? You can’t possibly think it was  _ me  _ who slipped her some Alihotsy-”

Lily looked thunderstruck while Ivy smacked the table triumphantly. Melissa stared at Winnie, seeing her in a different light for the first time, while Winnie’s eyes darted around skittishly like a trapped animal.

“It wasn’t me, I swear it wasn’t!”   
  


“No one said anything about Alihotsy, Winnie. How else would you know?”

“Jordan Kavinsky. Yes, Jordan Kavinsky! He said that was probably it.”

“Jordan? But that seems so...unlikely. What does he have against Melissa?”

“I have no more against Melissa than he does, so it can’t possibly be me.”

“Winnie, really, it wouldn’t be your fault if you did it. You could have been under the Imperius Curse.”

“ _ He _ could have been under the Imperius Curse! And I was too busy auditioning the others. How do you think I pulled something off like that with a teacher two feet from me?”   
  


“You  _ are _ a Ravenclaw.”

“And so are you. Really, you’d think you’d be a little brighter and realise I’m not the guy you need, but  _ Jordan Kavinsky _ .”

“Winnie, calm down-”

But things were just too much for Winnie by then, and she swung her legs over the bench smoothly and stalked off, shoulders shaking. Ivy looked smug but Lily was scowling.

“Ivy. What in the name of Merlin was that?”

“A guilty conscience never feels secure. Winnie is living proof.”

“We wanted to talk to her, not scare her!”   
  


“No, Lily,  _ you  _ wanted to talk to her. I wanted to interrogate her. Well, looks like we have our culprit now.”

“I still think we should talk to Jordan.”

“Lily, now is not the time to be forgiving. That was practically a confession! She was trembling from head to toe.”

“Because she was being cornered!”

“Look, we’ll talk to Jordan too, if that’s what you really want. But I’m telling you, it. Was. Winnie. It was plain as day on her face.”


End file.
